


Gone with the Fallen Leaves

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Greater than canon-typical violence, Ignores clone theory, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Power Dynamics, Power Play, Shiro (Voltron)'s Missing Year, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-02-10 07:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12907104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: The longer Lotor stays with the team, the more Shiro begins to dream of what seems to be his past.  It makes his life even more complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Serious warning time:**
> 
>  
> 
> The relationship between Shiro and Lotor, both as companions and otherwise, is not an equal or very healthy one: it cannot be, while Shiro is a captive and Lotor is a prince. This is acknowledged and brought up in universe. While there is never anything forced, you may still view this as dubious consent because of those power dynamics. If that's going to bother you, I suggest giving this one a pass.

It took several minutes for Shiro to realize something was wrong.

The hallways of the Galra ship all looked the same to him.  The differences were tiny, mostly in the labels placed on the doors, which Shiro couldn’t read to begin with.  There were a few he happened to have glanced at enough to memorize the shape of the word, and that was the only way he could tell the halls apart until they arrived at their destination.

Shiro was also more than a little punch drunk.  A not insignificant portion of his weight was being dragged along by the guard holding onto his cuffs.  It was hard enough to keep his feet under him and moving at a tolerable speed, much less read the signs on the wall.  The world was spinning too hard for that, anyway.

But eventually, the hallway ended and they turned left, which was wrong.  Shiro was pretty sure they normally walked for longer, and absolutely sure they always went right to get back to the cells.

For the first time since his last victory, Shiro picked his head up.  Blood dripped down from his forehead, gluing one of his eyes shut.  It slid down onto the muzzle they shoved on him before and after each match.

They turned again, and this time the hall seemed lighter.  It wasn’t that each the lights was brighter, though, just that there were more of them, dotting between each door.

Where was Shiro going?  He’d heard tales of prisoners being brought to strange facilities, and returning in less pieces than they’d left.  But normally those were after injuries or failures.  

Shiro had won, and he was in one piece, aside from some blood and a small part of his ear.  It’d grow back, he was sure.  It wasn’t as bad as the time in high school when someone had accidentally ripped out an earing.  

Fear coiled in Shiro’s stomach, spurring him into action before he was taken somewhere he wouldn’t walk out of.  He braced his heels against the metal flooring and reared back like a horse.  There was no real plan, no end game.  Just that Shiro didn’t want to keep going forward.

The guard behind him grunted, nearly walking into Shiro’s shoulder from the sudden stop.  He growled, something that was probably a word but Shiro didn’t catch.  Then he brought the but of his gun down on the back of Shiro’s head.

Shiro crashed to his knees.  The clarity he’d managed to regain since the fight fled, leading him dazed and pained.  Before he could even collapse forward, he was grabbed again by the cuffs and shoved to his feet.  Shiro stumbled, unsteady and without even hands to balance himself.  He was never given the chance to regain his footing, and he had to be saved from falling forward again by the grip on his wrists.

Shiro blinked his one available eye and stopped resisting.

He told himself it was because he was waiting for an opportunity.

Mostly, he didn’t want to be hit again.

Then, bafflingly, they came to an elevator.  Shiro paused in front of it, stunned.  Everything to do with the prisoners, from the contestant entrance of the arena to the cells, was all down on the lower levels.  He’d never even seen the elevators himself - only heard the guards mention them, when they chatted amongst themselves.

Why was-

Shiro was shoved in.  Hard.

“Walk!”  The guard snapped, clearly annoyed with Shiro now.  He grumbled again, a mutter the translators didn’t pick up.  Either he wasn’t enunciating enough, or he was cursing.

Standing in the elevator, Shiro glanced around.  The walls were sleek and shiny, almost like the mirrored sides of a hotel elevator.  Lines of purple ran along the edges, and there were thick, fabric decorations looping around the ceiling.

This was no service elevator.  This was fancy, especially for the Galra.  Nearly frivolous, for their tastes.

The second guard tapped on a panel, projecting a screen.  They pressed on something, and the whole thing shuddered.  It lasted for only a minute, before the doors parted.

On the other side was a hallway leading to two huge doors.  They were decorated in the symbol for the Galra empire, run through with glowing lines and what looked like precious metals.  

What had Shiro gotten into?  This seemed fancy for a lab, but the witch was supposed to be favored by the emperor.  Maybe this was hers?

This time, the shove was all it took to get Shiro moving.  Despite the way his heart hammered, he allowed himself to be led forward.  As they got closer, Shiro could see the glowing lines weren’t solid, but multiple threads of hair-thin glowing swirls.  This wasn’t utility, but pure show.  Whoever was on the other side, they were someone with power, wealth, or both.

Finally, they stopped in front of the doors, and another screen popped up at the corner.  The second guard tapped on that as well, and a chime rang out.

A doorbell.  This thing had a doorbell.

Shiro suddenly thought about trying to duck and hide back in the elevator, like a little kid playing ding-dong-ditch.

He was going to blame that on the possible concussion, honestly.

After a moment, the doors shuddered, clicking and grinding from the inside.  Probably whatever security measures being deactivated.  Then they swung open, with mechanical, even slowness.

On the other side, standing in the center of a brightly lit, opulent room, was the most slender Galra that Shiro had ever seen.  White hair tumbled down their shoulders, and their eyes weren’t the pure yellow of the others - there was actual irises and pupils, almost like a human.

“Excellent.  I see you did not delay.”  The new Galra’s eyes roamed over them, lips pressed thin.

Shiro winced, trying not to feel grubby.  He was still bloody and ragged from the last fight, and covered in dirt from where he’d been thrown to the ground several times.  Compared to this well-groomed, wealthy-looking Galra, he was an absolute mess.

Hell, Shiro was a mess anyway.  This Galra was clearly high class.

“No, Prince Lotor.  Was there anything else you required?”  The second guard asked.

The Galra - a Prince, of all things - waved them off.  “No, other than for you to leave.  I will call you when it is time to retrieve the Champion.”

The guards bowed and began to step away.  Shiro turned his head to watch them go, stomach dropping.

Oh, he knew what this was.

Shiro had only heard rumors that gladiators could be bought out for an afternoon or evening of entertainment.  He’d never known it to ever happen to anyone before, and he had never been collected for such a thing.  

It wasn’t the witch’s lab, at least.  

But it might have been worse.

For a moment, he genuinely considered bolting and trying to get to the elevators.  He’d seen how to work them - he could probably figure out how to get down and away.

But his head still ached, and his stomach rolled dangerously.  There was no way he could get past the guards before they stopped him.

While he was still trying to figure out a way, the door closed with painful finality.

Shiro was alone with Prince Lotor - who owned him for an unspecified amount of time.

Heart plummeting to his stomach, Shiro slowly turned to look at Lotor.

The prince was suddenly much closer than he’d been before.  Shiro jolted, and only the cuffs kept him from taking a swing.  His shoulders still rocked with the desire, but Lotor smirked, looking amused at the attempt.

That didn’t make Shiro feel any more comfortable.

Lotor’s hand reached up, claws extended toward Shiro’s eyes.  He instinctively flinched back, trying to get away.  But Lotor’s hand curved around, going to the back of his head.  There was a click, and the metal muzzle fell off, clattering to the ground between them.

“Better,” Lotor decided, looking him over.  This time, when he reached out, he did touch Shiro’s face.  Two pointed claws dragged parallel to the drip of blood down his forehead.  “Could be better yet.  Are you injured further?”

Shiro set his jaw, unwilling to answer.  He didn’t know what Lotor had planned, but he wouldn’t admit any weakness, here.

Brows up, Lotor gave him an unimpressed look.  “I know you can speak.  I saw the fight you just won.  Now, are you injured?  You fell hard, before.”

“No,” Shiro finally replied, voice tight.  Then, remembering his position, he added, “Prince Lotor.”

Being respectful was better than being beaten.  Or whatever other punishments a prince could come up with.

Lotor looked him over, expression still bland.

Then he pressed his fingers to Shiro’s side, right below his ribs.

Pain shot through him like lightning.  Shiro would have suppressed the noise, but he was too surprised, and the pain too deep.  Instead he choked his scream back as fast as possible and ducked his head.

“The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can heal them,” Lotor told him, clipped and impatient.  “For your own good, just tell me where you’re hurt.”

Shiro ground his teeth together.  “Why?” He managed.  

Lotor’s brows rose.  “Why am I healing you?”  When Shiro only continued to stare, he snorted.  “Because I want to, and I can.  Now, where?”

Maybe that was true in some distant way, but it totally ignored the real why.  Still, Shiro didn’t have the luxury of pushing.  And if Lotor was going to heal him, well-

Shiro would be an idiot to say no, wouldn’t he?

“Nowhere,” Shiro replied.  When Lotor continued to stare him down, he let out a sigh.  “Everywhere, but nothing significant, other than the cut on my head.  And a possible concussion.”

Letting out a thoughtful noise, Lotor rested the tips of his fingers on Shiro’s jaw and forced him to look around, inspecting his head.  The movement made the world shift and swim, until Shiro had to swallow against his nausea.  “I see.  Most of that is easy enough.   Undress, then.”

Shiro yanked his head away and stared Lotor down.

“Nearly intimidating,” Lotor drawled, not bothering to hide his mocking tone.  “The cuffs don’t add much, though.  Here.”  He reached around, and those came free too.

Immediately, Shiro swung for Lotor’s head.

Just as fast, he was on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Lotor held him down, far stronger than he looked by size.  “Disappointing.  That was clumsy of you.  We’ll blame that on the concussion, shall we?”

Straining up, Shiro bared his teeth at him, desperately wanting to sink his teeth into the arm holding down his shoulders.  

“Allow me to clarify.  I want you to undress so that I can get you to a healing bath and take care of those bruises of yours.  After, you will be given clothes, and I will not touch you except to heal you.  Agreed?”

Shiro stilled, eyes wide and mouth falling open.

“Why?” He asked again, unable to help it.  It was stupid, to believe Lotor at face value.  He could lie.  Of course Lotor could lie.  Why not, if it got Shiro naked and ready for whatever he wanted?

Lotor sighed.  “Your fear is well founded.  If you were not such a valuable fighter, or if you were ever to lose, it’s likely you’d be sold the way you worry about. I only have access because I outrank those who veto the requests.”  He smacked Shiro on the cheek, a mockingly friendly gesture, then yanked his hand away before it could be bit.  “I don’t want to hurt you.  The opposite, really.”

This time, Shiro wasn’t willing to back down.  _  “Why?” _

“Because if I do, you might lose,” Lotor said, as if that was obvious.  “And I’ve enjoyed your battles.  That’s why I was watching.  You entertain me.  I cannot Favor you in the way most can  My name carries too much weight.  But this way I can keep it private.  Do you understand?”

Not really, but Shiro could at least see the shape of the trees, if not the forest.  Gladiatorial Favors were public, and he could see why it might be unfortunate for a prince to be attached to a fighter.  What if they lost, or what if people started accusing the Arena of cheating to curry favor?  

So instead, he was offering this.

Finally, Shiro went limp and gave in.  “What do you want from me?” He asked, but his voice wasn’t so much of a growl.  It was accepting.

Lotor smiled.  “For you to heal, and for you to eat, and for you to rest.  Then, tomorrow, I want you to win.  I don’t think you’ll disagree with any of those things.”

No.  Shiro wanted all of that too.

No longer being in pain.  Getting an extra meal.  Sleeping somewhere other than his cold, always lit cell.

That was what Shiro dreamed of, quite literally.

There was no way this wouldn’t come back to bite him.  Lotor wanted something, and Shiro would eventually have to give it.

But to feel full for the first time in months?  

Shiro was willing to do that.

Standing, Lotor gestured for Shiro to get up.  Once he was back on his feet, Lotor nodded to one of the doors.  “Get undressed and go in there.  You’ll find a bath.  You may adjust the temperature to your liking.  Get off the dirt and clean your wounds.  It does no good to heal you if it’ll give you an infection instead.”

A bath.

_ A bath. _

Shiro’s heart clenched in his chest.  His eyes burned.

He nodded, throat too tight for a response.  Instead, he stepped forward to the door, which swung open as he approached.  Once Shiro passed through, it closed behind him.

The bathroom was tiled and huge.  The tub was built into the floor, almost like a jacuzzi, and the bottom was lit.  Stepping over, Shiro walked in a slow circle, his grimy shoes clacking loudly in the quiet room.

It took a moment to find the controls along the edge, because it blended with the title at first glance.  It showed a display, none of which Shiro could read.  But a few experimental taps turned it on, and he quickly discovered the adjustable bar on the side controlled the temperature of the water.

Warm water.

A bath.

The first thing Shiro did was stick his head under the facet and take several deep gulps.  It tasted clean.  Pure.  None of the metallic aftertaste from the cups they used for gladiators.

Pulling back, Shiro wiped off his mouth, then made a face.  The pouring water was tainted a dirty red, between the blood and the dirt.

Maybe he should get clean first, so he wasn’t drinking anything dangerous.  But Shiro still wanted more, just in case the promised food was a lie.  He’d come out of this with something.

With that, Shiro finally started to strip.

By now, he was resigned to the way he looked.  Shiro was made out of all hard lines now, jutting bones and broad muscles.  Surviving had meant getting strong, but there was so little for his body to work off of.  There was no fat on his body anymore, which made his muscles more defined, but gave him a sickly, sunken look.  He could see the rough shape of his ribs and the points of his hip bone.

And scars.  Rough, knotted, discolored.  His chest and arms were covered, his thighs not far behind.

No matter what happened, those would remain.  The Garrison could follow him here, blow up this ship, and take him back home where he’d lay around the house all day and eat sweets.  The muscles could atrophy, the hard lines could soften.  But Shiro would never be free of these scars.

Shaking his head, Shiro dipped his foot into the rapidly filling bath.  He immediately yanked it back, hissing at the heat.  He lowered the temperature slightly, then braced himself and stepped.

Immediately, there was a bloom of grime from his skin.  The only form of cleaning Shiro had been allowed was get sprayed down between fights and communal showers.  Those were difficult for the smaller gladiators, since the taller ones took up what little spray they got.  It had been enough for Shiro to keep his face and hands mostly clean.  

This was different.

The water swirled and pulsed.  Shiro could feel it churning below the surface like a current.  Then, the dirt was gone.

Filtered, somehow, probably sucked away and replaced.

Clean again.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro finally sank into the water.

At first, the water all clouded with beading blood and swirls of dirt.  But that filtered out quickly as well, leaving Shiro in clear, hot, clean water.

To his humiliation, his eyes started to burn.  So instead Shiro ducked his head under the surface and scrubbed over his eyes, wincing as the congealed blood finally came off his eyelid.  Then he scrubbed his fingers along his scalp, careful to avoid the cuts.  Clumps came free, hair he’d shed but that had still been tangled in the dirty locks.  With his eyes closed, he couldn’t tell how dirty it was, but he had to imagine it was disgusting.

But by the time Shiro rose back above the surface and opened his eyes, it was all clear again.

Reaching up, Shiro ran his fingers through his bangs, untangling the knots for the first time in weeks.

He was clean.

As water dripped down his hair and face, it was impossible to tell what was bathwater and what was tears.

Good.

Emboldened, Shiro search through the supplies next to the bath.  It took some inspection, but he found what he thought was soap.  It was a gel that lathered satisfyingly between his hands.  He hadn’t known he’d missed the sensation of frothy bubbles against his arms, but the touch made his chest tighten.

“That goes in your hair, actually.”

Jumping, Shiro turned to face the doorway.  Either he’d been lost in the sensation, or it had opened quietly.  Regardless, Lotor watched him with amusement, as though he were a dog that had done an amusing trick.

Shiro should hate that.  He did, logically.  But right now there wasn’t room for any emotion but awe.  He was fill to bursting already, chest straining to contain his heart, throat aching from the threatening lump.  Anything else would crack him open and make him bleed out.

“Oh.”  Instead, Shiro moved his hands to his hair, rubbing the shampoo against his scalp instead.  It felt just as luxurious, and Shiro’s eyes slid closed despite himself.  He should keep an eye on Lotor, especially while he was bare in the bath.  This was dangerous.

But let Lotor do what he wanted.  If he struck out and slit Shiro’s throat right now, then Shiro would die the happiest he’d been in weeks.

With his eyes shut, he tracked Lotor’s steps around the side of the pool.  He heard the glass bottles of soaps and other supplies clatter together.

Ducking under the water, Shiro scrubbed away the shampoo, then came back up.  He pushed his dripping bangs out of the way so he could over at Lotor.  By now, Lotor had moved a couple of bottles away from the rest, perched on the very lip of the tub, and added another, glowing bottle to the collection.

Noticing his attention, Lotor’s brows rose.  “Most of these are scents,” he said.  “Not particularly useful in your case.  This one is the shampoo you’re using.”  He tapped a purple bottle.  “And this is the soap.”  The blue bottle.  “Are your wounds clean?”

“As much as they can be, without antibacterial treatment,” Shiro admitted.  His fingers circled the cut on his scalp absently.

Lotor’s nose crinkled.  “There is treatment for such things in the bath,” he informed Shiro, as if he were utterly backwards for not knowing that.

Yeah, well, fine.  Shiro didn’t like the tone, but he wasn’t about to talk back.  Not until he got treatment.

“Then use the soap next,” Lotor ordered, flapping a hand at Shiro.  “Be cleaned completely.  Then I will apply the final stage.”

The final stage.

Shiro hesitated, frowning.  But the lure of using actual, real soap on his body was greater than the vague fear, so he snatched that up.  He took the whole bottle with him, pouring a liberal amount in his palm.  Then he put it on the other side of the tub from Lotor, just in case.  If he tried to take it, Shiro would have at least a chance to get another squirt.

But Lotor didn’t make any such move.  He sat on the edge of the tub, bracing on his palms, and crossed his legs in front of him.

Watching.

Shoulders tense, Shiro lathered the soap in his hands, pleased it still did that here.  “Am I supposed to be doing something?” He finally asked.

“You are,” Lotor replied.  “You’re entertaining me.  That’s your purpose.”

Shiro’s purpose, as if his entire point in life had been to pilot the Kerberos mission, get picked up by the Galra, win all those matches, just to end up here.  Just to bathe in Lotor’s tub and give him a show in the process.

Great.

“You enjoy watching people bathe?” Shiro shot back.  Forget not talking back - that was creepy.

Lotor snorted.  “Sometimes, with lovers.”  When Shiro started to scramble back, he rolled his eyes.  “None of that.  I didn’t mean you.  My partners are thrilled to lay with me, I don’t need to coerce slaves.”

Thrilled to lay with a prince, as if they could afford to act any other way, likely.  And ‘need’ wasn’t the same as ‘enjoyed’.  Shiro didn’t need to fly, but he’d do it whenever he had the chance.

Either ignoring or not noticing Shiro’s skepticism, Lotor continued.  “Your species is interesting.  Similar in build to one in particular, with several exceptions.  No markings, for one, and your ears are…”  He trailed off, nose crinkled.

Great.  Despite everything else going on, and Shiro could still feel self-conscious about his ears of all things.

“They work fine,” he replied.

“Well enough for your purposes, I suppose.”  Lotor’s own tapered, pointed ears twitched, as if highlighting the point.  With the size of them, Shiro suspected his hearing was much better.  It was hard to say that was a rule with the Galra, though.  They were so varied that Shiro couldn’t make many general assumptions.  Just big, broad, and mean.

Lotor hadn’t been either of those things yet.  Bigger than Shiro, but small for a Galra.  Broad shoulders, but slender overall.  Bossy, entitled, blunt, but not cruel.

It was possible Shiro’s bar was set very low.

“What species?” He finally asked.  “I haven’t seen any.”

“I highly doubt you’ve seen many kinds of beings, outside of your peers in the ring,” Lotor replied, brows back.  “Not from your little rock.  Regardless, you never will.  They went extinct a very long time ago.  Nearly ten thousand years.”

Oh.  Shiro’s expression went surly, but he didn’t deny Lotor’s words. It was true that he’d never met another alien before they were captured.  Instead, he focused on scrubbing and ignoring the eyes on his body.

It was very difficult to do.

“Do you have to watch?” Shiro finally asked, jaw set.

Lotor’s lips curled up.  “I supposed I am not required, no.  But it pleases me to do so.  I should get something out of this.  I have already told you that you needn’t worry about such things here.  What is your objection?”

Shiro didn’t trust his word.  And Shiro didn’t like it.

But there was very little he liked about his captivity.  So Shiro ducked his head and focused on getting clean.

Soon, he’d scrubbed over every single inch, reveling in the chance to take his time.  More than once, Shiro glanced up, making sure Lotor wasn’t trying something or getting impatient.  But he merely watched, as if the act of Shiro cleaning under his nails was fascinating.

Honestly, it reminded him of the look Commander Holt got, when he talked about ice samples and the carbon dating processes.

That wasn’t comforting, to be someone’s science experiment.  Shiro just hoped he had nothing to do with those rumored labs.

“Done?” Lotor asked, finally starting to sound impatient.   “Or would you like to wash for a third time?”

Well, when Lotor had been the grimy prisoner of a war-faring alien race, then he could complain about how through Shiro was.  But there was little justification to carry on, so Shiro only nodded.

Lotor picked up the glowing bottle, then reached over and tapped the controls.  He pushed the water over to warmer, regardless of Shiro’s preferences on the matter.  

“Hey!”  Shiro tensed as the water warmed around him, more than he would have liked.  It wasn’t burning yet, but his skin reddened and it started to steam.  

“The treatment needs hotter water than this,” Lotor informed him without looking back.  He sounded bored, almost clinical.  “That should do it.  So long as it won’t cook you, it’s preferable, I think.”

….What did Galra eat?  Had he ever seen one have a meal?

Shiro swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable in a new way.

Thankfully, Lotor didn’t even look over.  He just uncapped the glowing bottle and started to pour it in.  His lips worked, counting off before he pulled it back off and capped it again, apparently satisfied with the amount.

The liquid ribboned through the bath, until all of it was tinted and glowing slightly.  Shiro tensed, eyes wide.  “What is this?”

Lotor finally looked over.  “Treatment.  It won’t do much for the cut on your head.  I’ll have to bandage that before we eat.  But for the bruises, it should heal them.  Do attempt to relax, or else it’ll take longer.”

Easier said than done. Shiro backed up until he hit the edge.  There was a curve to the wall that formed something like a seat, so he settled down in it.  “What do I need to do?”

“Nothing,” Lotor replied, once again giving him a flat, unimpressed look.  “I told you to relax.  It’s healing you, not burning you.”  He paused, brows drawing together.  “Is it burning you?”

Shiro glanced down, looking at his hands under the faint glow of the water.  “No,” he admitted. 

Flapping an impatient hand, Lotor nodded.  “There you go, then.  There’s nothing to fight here, Champion.”

There was someone, but it wasn’t a fight Shiro wanted to have.  So instead he nodded and closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the lip of the tub.  If he’d been Lotor’s height, the edge would have been comfortably at his neck, letting him rest his head on the tile floor.  As it was, he just had to make due.

“Five more dobashes of that,” Lotor decided.  “That should be plenty.  Then you’ll rinse off and we can focus on the meal.  Your species are omnivores, correct?”

Shiro cracked his eyes back open.  “Yes.  How did you know?”

“We’ve had chances to study you,” Lotor pointed out.  “Your teeth give it away.  You have flat ones in the back.”

Oh.  Somehow, Shiro had expected a different answer - that the Galra had taken over Earth, maybe, or they’d tortured the information out of one of the Holts.

…The answer didn’t meant they hadn’t.  But at least it wasn’t a confirmation.

Whatever a dobash was, it had to be fairly close to a minute.  A few passed, then Lotor tapped the screen again.  The water churned around Shiro, replacing the glow with normal, filtered water.  Then it began to drain.

A protest hid behind Shiro’s front teeth, just barely kept from escaping.  The water was a touch too hot, and he’d never been much of a ‘lounge in the bath’ kind of guy.  But Shiro could have spent hours in there, if he was allowed.

But Lotor called the shots here, not Shiro.  That was impossible to ignore.

“I don’t believe we’ll be putting you back into… these.”  He glanced at Shiro’s clothes, nose crinkling. “We just got you smelling tolerable, no need to ruin it.  I’ll have those rinsed, at least, before you leave.  Get out and stand.”  Without waiting for a response, Lotor stepped over to a door on the far wall and pulled it open.

It wasn’t worth it to fight.  Shiro didn’t really want to go back into the jumpsuit either.  The dark color was grayed by all the dirt on it, and it was ripped and stained in gross places.  Still, having something to cover himself but his hands would have been comforting.

Shiro stood, knees together and hands splayed to protect what little modesty he had left.  He didn’t bother in the communal showers.  Who cared about Shiro’s genitals, when everyone’s was so alien to each other, and when they barely had a few minutes to get as clean as they could manage.  

Here was a different story.  This room reminded Shiro of what life had been like before.

Lotor returned, holding a long, gold piece of fabric.  It seemed flimsy, barely more than a sheet.  “This will do for now.”

Taking it, Shiro held it up and realized it was a robe.  One made for Lotor’s size, so it would probably hang low on him.

Still, it was better than standing around naked.  Shiro pulled it on, tying it with the attached fabric belt.  Like predicted, the front gapped, falling off one shoulder like a little kid trying on their parents’ clothing.

“Mmm,” Lotor muttered.  “It is easy to forget how small you are, to see you fight.”  There was a light in his eyes when he said that, a kind of satisfaction that Shiro didn’t understand. 

Shiro arched his brows, waiting for Lotor’s verdict.  Would it be this, nakedness, or the jumpsuit again?  Or maybe there was a fourth option?

Lotor sighed and waved him back toward the room.  “It’ll do.  Our meal should have arrived.  Head in and take a seat.  We’ll apply the bandage, then you may eat while it works.

Glancing back at the empty tub, Shiro swallowed against a new lump in his throat.  He might never see one again.

But Shiro couldn’t stay here forever and stare at a bath like a lost lover.  So he sighed and nodded, heading toward the door.

The first thing he noticed was the smell.

It was savory, the heady smell of cooked meat.  It wasn’t exactly like anything else Shiro had smelled before, which made sense.  He’d never eaten whatever it was, most likely.  But he could suddenly imagine the taste, thick and juicy on his tongue.

His stomach rumbled, and Shiro made a beeline for the seat.  The tray was stacked high, both with the cooked form of whatever this creature had been and what looked like steamed vegetables of some sort.

Mouth watering, Shiro reached out.

Only for his hand to be smacked down.

“Don’t touch it,” Lotor said, nose crinkled.  “You’re clean, yes, but we have plates.  Utensils.  Do you not have those, on your planet?”

Shiro reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the golden brown meat.  “We do,” he managed.  “I didn’t know you did.”

Shrugging, Lotor gestured for him to sit.  “Well, no one is going to give a prisoner something sharp to eat with, of course.  Even so, we’re more civilized than that. Now sit still while I retrieve the bandages.”

Sit here with the food.  Stare at it, smell it, imagine tasting it.  But don’t touch.

Apparently Lotor did have a cruel streak after all.

Shiro’s eyes darted as Lotor disappeared behind a different door than the bathroom.  Then they immediately turned back to the meal.

It looked delicious.  It smelled amazing.  Maybe Shiro had never tried any of those foods before, but they were so much more appetizing than the one bowl of goop he got per day.  On this one tray was more than he’d eaten in the past week, all for the taking.

Shiro’s hands twitched at his side.

Just a bit.  A piece of the skin, to see if it was as crispy as it looked.

Just a-

Shiro reached out just as the door opened up again.

“What did I just tell you?”  Lotor snarled.  He stamped over and grabbed Shiro’s wrist, strong enough it would probably bruise.  The bones creaked under his skin, and Shiro’s attempts to pull away only made it worse.  “My instructions were clear!”

“I’m hungry!” Shiro shot back, teeth bared again.  He’d never felt so much like a wild animal than at this moment, facing down the prince who stood between him and a meal.

Lotor glared darkly.  “You’ll be eating in moments if you can control yourself!  If you cannot be asked to follow basic, simple instructions, than you cannot stay here!”

The threat stilled Shiro.  Closing his eyes hard, he nodded sharply.  “I understand.”

_ Listen to me, obey my commands, or you don’t eat. _

The same rules the rest of the Galra played by.

Shiro knew this game well, now.

He let his arm go limp, eyes down on his lap, and didn’t let any of his churning frustration show.

After a moment, Lotor let Shiro’s hand drop to his lap.  For a moment he hesitated, like he wanted to say something else. But in the end he just leaned forward, fingers scraping through Shiro’s hair.

His hands were hot.  Even the light touch made goosebumps form over Shiro’s skin, all up and down his arms.

The first friendly touch he’d had since- since Matt had been taken away.

Shiro closed his eyes and reminded himself this wasn’t friendly.  Lotor was a Galra, same as the rest.  His goals just lined up with Shiro’s for the moment.  That was all.

Reaching back, Lotor picked a roll of something off the table. He parted Shiro’s hair, then laid the bandages over the cut on his scalp.  They stuck fast in place.  Though he couldn’t see it, Shiro could feel the burst of heat and a pulse.

“That should do,” Lotor decided.  “Anywhere else bleeding significantly?”

Shiro shook his head, eyes still on his lap.

There was a sigh.  “I’m going to trust that you’re being truthful, and not stubborn again.”

Joke was on Lotor. Shiro could be both.

“I’ll carve the reyken,” Lotor continued on.  “You may have as much as you need, so long as you eat slowly.  If you vomit on my table, that will be the end of dinner.”

Eat slowly.  Right.  Shiro had to remember he hadn’t had anything heavier than the slop in weeks.   He gave a sharp nod, still not looking.

Lotor sighed, but he turned around and started to cut slices of meat.  He picked up a plate and moved it over, taking a healthy serving of it, and a heaping pile of the vegetables.  Then he placed it in front of Shiro, along with a fork and knife set.

Something dark and dangerous bloomed in Shiro’s chest.  

A knife.  Lotor was giving him a life.

When he reached out, Lotor grabbed his wrist again, in the same place he’d crushed before.  Shiro’s breath escaped in a pained hiss, and he couldn’t help the way he flinched.

“The knife will only cut what’s on the plate,” Lotor informed him coldly.  When Shiro finally looked up to meet his eyes, his gaze was piercing and deadly.  “Do not give me reason to suspect you’re attempting to use it otherwise.”

Jaw set, Shiro nodded.

Lotor let him to then cut several more slices of meat.  He took those pieces on his plate, leaving the vegetables completely.  Then he sat down across from Shiro, brows up.  

Waiting.

Shiro stared back, practically vibrating.  The scent of the food was even stronger now that it was right under his nose.  His eyes prickled with effort as he held off, waiting for a cue that it was alright to eat.

From Lotor’s smirk, that was exactly what he’d been hoping for.  Picking up his own utensils, he began to cut off bites.  “You may begin.”

Shiro dove for the fork and knife, nearly knocking them off the table in his haste.  He wished he could have more dignity than this, practically falling over himself for a taste.  But he was physically unable to help himself.  Eating was so much more important than dignity at the moment.  In an hour he might disagree, but there was no arguing with that scent.

Cutting off a piece as quickly as he could, Shiro bit down on it, then froze.

Tastes like chicken.

Shiro nearly choked on something that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.

Brows up, Lotor looked him over cooly.  “I told you not to eat too fast,” he reminded tightly.

Shaking his head, Shiro kept the fork in his mouth, savoring every drop of juice and the heavy weight.  He had no words to explain the thought, the half-joke, the feeling of eating something meant for people instead of slaves.

Lotor would probably never understand what this meant for Shiro.  How could he, from his princely perch?

Despite that, fondness curled in his chest.  Lotor was like the rest of them, sure.  He was cruel, he was commanding, he made Shiro deeply aware of his position.

But he’d let Shiro bathe and given him food.

Now, Shiro understood completely why stray dogs got so attached to anyone who fed them.

Once that first, precious bite was out of the way, Shiro dove in with the rest.  He didn’t bother cutting up the not-chicken into small bites, instead forcing himself to enjoy each mouthful.  He licked the fork between bites, careful to get every single drop of juice.  The vegetables weren’t quite so heavenly, but they were salty and earthy.  

It was all amazing.

Shiro closed his eyes and resisted the urge to reach up and wipe them.  Lotor didn’t need to see that and to know what this meant.

It meant the world.

Through it all, he was watched by those sharp blue eyes.  Lotor stayed quiet, like he had through watching Shiro bathe.  His eyes were like a scientist again, amused merely through observation.

Let him.  Who cared?  Shiro hated it, but he’d put up with it a thousand, a million times.

He was full.  For the first time since- hell, since before the Kerberos mission, Shiro felt utterly and satisfyingly full. Not just freeze dried packets, not slop.  Real food.

Real food.

Finally, Shiro’s plate was empty.  Only the knowledge of Lotor’s watchful eyes kept Shiro from actually licking the plate.  He settled on running his fork through the remaining juices, then sucking on that.

Lotor took much longer to finish.  He’d taken less, but his pace was far slower than Shiro’s.  But finally he put down his utensils and nodded.  “I think that’s enough.”

Immediately, Shiro tensed.  Was the food going away?  No, he could eat more.  He was full, but he wasn’t overstuffed, and he didn’t know when he’d ever get the chance again.  If he would.  Was this all just going to be taken away?

Shiro’s panic must have shown, because Lotor sighed at him.  “You’ll be able to have more later.  For now, again, I don’t wish for you to be sick at my table.  I’ll put it in the chamber so it will keep.  Is that acceptable, or would you prefer to continue to carry on?”

Carrying on sounded fantastic, but this was the game.  Shiro had to play by Lotor’s rules, or else he’d lose everything.  “I understand.”

“Excellent.”  Lotor covered the food again.  Despite the way Shiro’s chest clenched and his hands tensed, he didn’t reach out to try and grab it.  Instead, the tray lifted up, and gently floated over to some sort of cabinet on the wall.  It settled inside, and the door closed behind it, presumably preserving it.

Now, Shiro didn’t know what came next.  ‘Rest.’  What did that mean?

Lotor leaned back in his chair, considering Shiro.  “There, now we can talk.”

Watching him carefully through his bangs, Shiro clenched his hands in his lap.  “About what?”

“Last week, against the Naponian,” Lotor started.  At Shiro’s confused blink, he sighed.  “The tall one with many rows of fangs and spiked back.  I wish to discuss that fight.  How did you come to the conclusion to climb the pillar?”

Shiro took a deep breath, remembering how he’d struck them from above.  He’d been going for their back, trying to crack the armor.  Instead, he’d caved in their head.

His 17th kill.

It was nothing Shiro wanted to talk about.  Nothing he had anything good to say on, honestly.

But this was Lotor’s rooms, Lotor’s game.

Shiro would learn the rules, and he’d win.  As much as anyone won against the Galra.

For now, that meant talking.

So he did.

***

Shiro sat up in bed with a start.

For a moment, he struggled with his blanket, disoriented.  Where was he?  Had he fallen asleep talking to Lotor?  Was he back in his cell?

But, no, there was no Galra ship made of these pale metals and glowing blue lines.  This was the Castle of Lions.  That had been over a year ago.  Shiro was home.  Shiro was  _ safe. _

Except that Lotor lived on the ship, now.

Flopping back with a groan, Shiro scrubbed over his face.  One hand was skin, the other metal.

Shiro lifted his right arm up, watching it faintly reflect the dim lighting of the castle at night.  He had vivid dreams often, but never about such a calm moment.  It was always fights or suffering, not bathing himself. Not the chance to look over his body.

He’d had both his arms in the dream.  The right had scars on it, nicks and bites he still didn’t remember getting.  But it had been his.

Had that even been real?  It felt like it, but Shiro’s dreams were disorienting.  Everything had that same vivid, nearly hallucinatory feel.  It was so hard to tell what was a memory and what was the product of his mind.

Surely, if he’d been in Lotor’s care, if he owned him for meals and rest, then Lotor would have mentioned it.

Right?  

Of course he would.  Lotor would want to trade in the favor, now that the roles were reversed.  He’d be demanding Shiro bring him roast birds and give him special baths.

Unless something had gone wrong.  

Dropping his arm, Shiro breathed out slowly.

What to do with this?

Did he ask, and admit he’d forgotten most everything?  Let Lotor manipulate the situation, since he had all the memories?

Or did Shiro pretend ignorance, or at least pretend he was ignoring all of it?

So far, Lotor had been the model of a prisoner.  He obeyed quickly, he complained mildly (for a prince), he kept to the rules laid out.  It was a trap, and they all knew it.  Lotor had plans within plans, and he was just waiting to spring this one when their guards were down.

Which meant-

Shiro didn’t know.  But changing their strategy meant telling everyone what he’d dreamed of.  He could leave out the details, but he didn’t want them to know about it.  That he’d been so desperate for basic kindnesses, like being groomed and fed, that he’d been ready to allow Lotor whatever liberties he wanted.

The team didn’t need to think of him in that light.

Shiro wished he didn’t know it, himself.

It might not even be real.  No sense making a big fuss over a dream.  Shiro would wait, and see what shook out.  He’d watch Lotor with new eyes.

For now, sleep was out of the picture.  Shiro was wide awake, and he didn’t want to end up dreaming with the memory was still vivid.  If there were more memories, he wanted a break between them.  Even if there wasn’t, he might dream of it just because it was on his mind, making up more details wholesale.

So instead, Shiro climbed of the bed and got dressed in his armor.

There was plenty to do.  A few hours of sleep was enough for now.

Time to greet the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Shiro watched.

It wasn’t difficult to do.  Shiro had taken most of the duties of watching Lotor onto himself.  Technically, he was better utilized with the growing pains of the coalition, but Shiro did his best to handle both.  He had just never felt comfortable trusting Lotor around his team.  They could probably handle him, but-

Did they really understand what it meant, to have a prisoner?  Sendak had been unconscious the whole time, and Ulaz had been on their side.  Lotor was neither of those things.  Worse, he was clever.  Shiro loved his team, and he trusted them with his life.  But he wasn’t sure they were ready for the reality of keeping a hostile force contained.

Especially when they didn’t act hostile.

Lotor was terrifyingly good at playing humbled.  If Shiro had to guess, he’d assume Lotor had plenty of experience practicing on his father.

So Shiro watched.

Lotor didn’t act any differently from how he had since coming to stay at the Castle of Lions.  He accepted his meal from Shiro with polite thanks, and didn’t complain aside from a slight crinkling of his nose.

That was rude, and it still annoyed Shiro.  Lotor certainly had it very, very good compared to prisoners in his father’s empire.  But comparing it to the meal in the dream, Shiro could sympathize more.  Going from the delicious roast bird to space goo was a significant step down.

Assuming the roast bird was real.  

It had felt real, but most of Shiro’s dreams did.  They all had a too-sharp quality and terrifying plausibility.  Some, Shiro could map out on his own body, tracing scars he now remembered the origin of.  Others, Shiro woke up in a sweat, but knew for a fact they were fake.  More than once, he’d dreamed that Matt had gone to face Myzax, and Shiro had watched him die.  It was a lie, but it was in such painful detail that it always left him unsure for a while after.

Most dreams, however, were somewhere in between.  Plausible, but not provable.

Crossing his arms, Shiro waited for Lotor to finish eating.  After, he’d drag him to the control room, where Allura and Coran were waiting with the map of the known universe.  Lotor had thus far been invaluable for pointing out where Galra cruisers were likely to appear and identifying possible bottleneck traps.

Not that the team trusted anything he said without verification.  But so far, Lotor hadn’t liked that they could tell.

Of course, he wouldn’t.  Not if he wanted to trust them for whatever his plan was.

Circles upon circles.  Shiro didn’t know how the Blade of Marmora managed to keep their sanity.  Just dealing with Lotor was more than enough.

Glancing up at him, Lotor’s pale brows rose. He managed to seem like he was looking down at Shiro, despite sitting down on his bed. “Must you watch so closely?” He asked, a flat drawl.

It was the same question he’d asked every other day.  But this time, Shiro’s stomach flipped.

This didn’t mean anything.  The very fact that Lotor had asked it of him so often would explain why Shiro had heard it in the dream.

Still, he couldn’t help the way the hair rose on the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Shiro replied, voice steady and jaw set.  “I must, if I don’t want you to try anything.”

Lotor snorted.  He shoved his long hair back impatiently, keeping it out of his bowl.  “Not simply for your entertainment?”

Clenching his teeth, Shiro refused to react.  “I don’t find you entertaining.”

Absurdly, that seemed to annoy Lotor.  He drew himself up and scowled, fingers curled tightly around his spoon.  “Why not?”

Shiro stared him back down.  “Because I don’t derive entertainment from prisoners.”

Eyes bright, Lotor stared at him.  “The arena-”  He cut off his protest and dropped his head.  Then he took a deep breath.   “Your point is made.”

Shiro wasn’t sure it was.  They were better than the Galra.  Their prisoner was treated relatively well, if under intense security.  They had none of the cruelty.  When Voltron had shows, it was to pump up their audience and advertise freedom.  It wasn’t to watch the death of a living being and revel in the violence.

Heart pounding, Shiro swallowed against sudden, burning rage.  His hands would have shaken if he didn’t hold them in such tight fists.

The last time they’d had a high ranking Galra in their midst, it had been Sendak.  Shiro had felt the same fury then, the indignation that this being had known him when he was a prisoner.  He’d taken his entertainment in Shiro’s suffering, in how he’d been forced to main or kill his enemies.  Sendak had taunted him for it, and Shiro had only demands for information and that brief, satisfying moment of ejecting him into space to reply.

Shiro wanted to be better than the Galra.  Wanted to be a better person than them.

But it was so hard when he also wanted to make things even.  

Finally, Lotor put the bowl and spoon on the table beside his bed.  He stood up, smoothing down the loose clothing he’d been given.  From how well he kept himself groomed, the ill-fitting pajamas he wore probably didn’t make Lotor very happy.

Better than rags, or one ragged, stained jumpsuit.

“Are we ready to go, then?”  Lotor met Shiro’s gaze, his own utterly flat.  “I assume the Princess and her attendant are waiting for us?”

Shiro nodded and held out the cuffs.  Sighing, Lotor offered his wrists.  As they were put on, his lips thinned and his shoulders tightened.

Let him be uncomfortable.  It was so much less than he deserved.

“We’ll be assessing Sector Gyivian today,” Shiro told him, chin held high and shoulders set professionally.  “You may want to begin thinking of what you know of that area.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Lotor watched Shiro from the corner of his eyes.  One tap of his hand opened the door, and then Lotor started to walk a half step ahead of Shiro.  

About halfway there, Lotor sighed.  “Is there a level of cooperation I can reach that will allow me to walk more?”

Shiro glanced over at him.  “You’re walking now.”

“Yes, for the time it takes to get to the command room.  After, I will make the same walk back, and then I will be taken to use the facilities twice more in the day.  Outside of that, I am left in the room.”  Lotor lifted his chin.  “Your response may be that you were treated worse.  That is true, you were.  But I- I simply wish to use my muscles.  Spend time in the training room to exercise.”

Lotor was right.  That was absolutely Shiro’s first thought.

But then again, Shiro had also had more exercise than Lotor had, even if it had been in such a horrifying way.

Obviously, Shiro had no desire to bring Lotor to training sessions.  It was too likely they’d be distracted, or Lotor could turn on them and take advantage of the battle bot as an ally.  Something, anything.

But allowing him half an hour or so to run laps wasn’t an unreasonable request.

“I’ll speak with Allura,” Shiro replied, tone unyielding as stone.  “I’ll let you know her decision with your dinner.”

Likely, Allura would be willing to defer to Shiro’s judgment.  It was reasonable, to give Lotor such a request.  Exercise would help keep him healthy, and they did need to keep him in relatively good condition.   Privileges had their place too, since they could always take it away if Lotor began acting up.

And they were better than the Galra.  That included allowing reasonable requests.

But Shiro wasn’t going to give Lotor anything without letting him dangle for it. 

Lotor considered him, eyes narrowed.  “The Princess listens to you.  You are her general.”

“It’s still her final call,” Shiro shot back, brows up.  “Why?  Don’t think she’ll listen to you?”

Looking away again, Lotor clenched his jaw.

It seemed not.  Which was reasonable.  Allura openly did not like or trust Lotor, headstrong as always with her opinions.  It was part of what made her so inspiring to work with.

But also scary to be on her bad side.

Allura wouldn’t deny a prisoner a health benefit simply out of spite.  But Shiro could easily understand why Lotor might think she would. That was the quality of people he spent his life around.

If he wanted to believe that, Shiro was disinclined to correct him just yet.

Placing his hand on the console, Shiro gestured for Lotor to step through.  “After you, Prince.”  The tone was just slightly mocking, as was the hint of a curl at Shiro’s lips.

Lotor started like he’d seen a ghost.

The look was gone in an instant.  Lotor nodded and stepped through, already opening his mouth to greet Allura and Coran.

But Shiro saw.

And he wondered, his heart pounding.

***

“You will not survive long at this rate.”

Shiro looked up, eyes narrowed.  Once again, Lotor was watching him eat, chin braced on a palm.  His other hand twisted idly through a stray lock of hair.  The rest of it was braided loosely behind him, just to keep it out of the way.

Glancing away, Shiro sipped at his drink - something that tasted vaguely alcoholic and fruity, like a white wine.  “I’ve managed so far.”

“You have, and you have because you are cunning,” Lotor replied.  “But there are other opponents who are also intelligent.  It would only take one slip.”

Chest cold, Shiro put down his drink.  He picked up his fork and took a sharp bite of whatever meat Lotor had provided.  This time, it tasted vaguely pork-like.  He hadn’t had this one before, the not-quite half a dozen times Lotor had brought him to his rooms.

Shiro was still no closer to answering why Lotor was doing this.  It almost seemed as though what he’d said before was true; Shiro entertained him, and so Lotor wanted to keep him alive longer.

But their time spent together also proved to Shiro that Lotor was clever himself.  He liked to debate strategy with his pet Champion, discussing previous battles and tactics that Shiro might have used.

It was very, very easy from Lotor to watch from the sidelines and say ‘well I would have done this.’  In the heat of the fight, everything was different.  Shiro didn’t get a birds eye view of the arena with every battle, either, nor did he have the benefit of watching his opponents in other fights.

But that didn’t mean Lotor wasn’t right.  In the last battle, Shiro had used his suggestion of tangling the opponent’s chained weapon around one of the pillars.  

It had been extremely effective way to disarm the other fighter.  Shiro wasn’t sure he would have thought of it himself.

“True,” he finally agreed, because Lotor would continue to press until Shiro just gave him the win.  “It’s always possible to be outplayed.  But it’s much more likely I’ll be outmatched in strength.”

Lotor sighed.  “It’s true.  Even our meals have only done so much for that.”

Stilling, Shiro’s heart picked up speed.  Was Lotor going to stop feeding him?  He resisted the urge to grab the platter and hold it close.  Right now, he didn’t care about the indignity, but Lotor would.  An unhappy Lotor meant an unhappy Shiro.

“I’ve noticed a difference,” he replied, voice thankfully even. 

Nodding, Lotor waved a hand at him.  “Obviously.  But I haven’t seen a significant increase in strength.  It seems more of a species limitation than a lack of nutrition.  I had hoped.”

Shiro clenched his jaw and let the subtle insult run off him.  He didn’t think Lotor even meant to be insulting, not really.  Well, maybe, but sometimes he just seemed to run his mouth.  Humans were weaker, and he saw no problem in pointing that out.

It was still plenty insulting.

“What are you suggesting, then, Prince?” Shiro finally asked.

Lotor inclined his head.  “It’s true that you will be outmatched in brute strength.  But there are ways to use that against an opponent.  I have seen you use some.  We’ll simply improve upon that.”

Oh.

There was no negotiation to Lotor’s words, no hint of suggestion.  They would be doing this, same as Shiro would let Lotor treat him, or would be eating with him.

At this point, Shiro was used to that quirk of Lotor’s.  He wasn’t sure if it was because he was a prisoner, or if Lotor treated everyone like that.  He was certainly free about ordering the guards around.

Didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying, though.

“Okay,” Shiro replied, just to give the illusion of choice.  “How will I learn?”

Lotor blinked at him.  “I’ll teach you, of course.”

Well, Lotor had put him on his back the first time they’d met.  But Shiro had also been one-eyed and concussed post-battle.

“When?” 

Standing, Lotor waved a regal, graceful hand over the room.  “No time like now.”

Now.  Now?

Shiro looked over them both.  They’d barely finished eating, and Lotor had at least one drink in him, to Shiro’s half of one.  Shiro was in the robe that Lotor liked giving him, the one that slipped down at least one shoulder at all times.  This was not at all a training room, with the knickknacks on the table and the furniture interrupting the open space.  Not to mention the lack of weapons.

Looking over at Lotor in askance, Shiro tilted his head.  “If you’d like, Prince,” he offered, because he had to play the game.  But he let a hint of doubt creep up into his face.

Lotor scoffed and waved him off.  “No need for that.  Surely the Champion can fight in these conditions.”  He smiled, the expression surprisingly bright.

Yeah, Lotor was probably feeling those drinks.

Still, Shiro found himself warmed.  Part of him wanted to rise to Lotor’s expectations for him.  They were high, judging by the way he went over each of Shiro’s arena fights, but they were obtainable.  If Lotor wanted him to rise to the occasion, Shiro was found himself eager to try.  

But it was still silly, and really not the smartest idea.

Shiro watched as Lotor took hold of the table and dragged it to the wall, clearing more space for them.  “Normally I’m wearing pants,” he reminded.

“Are pants the source of your strength?” Lotor shot back, brows up.  “They seem to be the source of your wit.”

…Okay, fine.  If the Prince wanted to have a good old fashioned brawl, Shiro was going to let him.  He hopped up to his feet and stood across from Lotor, arms up loosely.

Lotor looked him over, head tilted.  “Good.  Let’s see what you do in these conditions.”  He slipped into a fighting stance too, balanced on the balls of his feet.

Dressed in only a robe, his hair in a messy, loose braid, the slightest flush to his cheeks, Lotor looked ridiculous.

Shiro probably looked just as bad.

For once, the thought was amusing, rather than mortifying.  Maybe because he had company, for once.

“Come on, Champion,” Lotor called, voice rising mockingly.  “Show me your skills.”

“Shiro.”

Lotor paused, brows up.  “I’m sorry?”

Jaw working, Shiro swallowed hard, like it would take the word back.  But it was out there, now, so might as well run with it.  “My name isn’t Champion.  It’s Shiro.”

“I call you by your title, because you’ve earned it,” Lotor replied, surprisingly sincere.  “Same as you call me Prince.”

Yeah, well, Lotor hadn’t earned that.  He’d been handled to it.

But that wasn’t the point, was it?

“I’m not fond of being called that,” Shiro replied, voice lowering slightly.  “I don’t take pleasure in the fights.”

Lotor’s arms dropped just a hair.  “I see.  I can respect that.”  Indeed, his eyes darted over Shiro’s face, including the scar that striped his nose.  “We all have fights we don’t wish to be part of.  The only thing we can do is win.”

Yes, well, most of those fights weren’t quite so literal, and didn’t involve being a prisoner to an evil, universe-conquering dictatorship.

But instead of pointing that out, Shiro nodded solemnly.  “You’re right.  But please call me Shiro.”

Then he darted forward while Lotor was still distracted and shoved him forward.  Once Lotor was off balance, Shiro hooked his leg around and kicked the back of Lotor’s knees.

Crashing down, Lotor caught himself on his hands, then kicked up in a surprisingly flexible move.  Shiro started to bend out of the way, but then Lotor’s robe slipped, revealing a lot of thigh and hip.  Not unattractive skin, either.

Instinctively, Shiro looked away and covered his eyes.

So Lotor’s foot caught him in the back of the head.

Shiro hit the floor in a crumbled ball.

“Sneaky!” Lotor accused, but he sounded more impressed than upset.  “I admit, you nearly had me.  Tell me, is Shiro truly your name?”

Clutching the back of his throbbing head, Shiro nodded and started to get up.  “Yeah. Everything I said was true.  I just took advantage of you thinking rather than fighting.”

Lotor laughed at that, and smacked him on the back.  Shiro went right back down to the floor.   _ Ow. _  So much for coming here to be healed.

“You still surprise me, Shiro.  But not always for the best.  You could have avoided that last blow.”

Sitting up, Shiro rubbed over his scalp, wincing at the forming goose egg.  “Yes, well, your robe…”

Lotor’s brows rose.  “What about it?”

“It was… not covering everything,” Shiro managed, cheeks going red.  “I didn’t think you would approve of me seeing.”

For a moment, Lotor stared.  Then a hiss of breath escaped him as he started to laugh again, this time harder.  “You took the blow to preserve my modesty!  How cute.  Champion, what is your world like, to produce a creature such as you?”

Creature.

Champion.

Shiro swallowed hard, his shoulders coming up.  “It was habitual.  Besides, I had no wish to see what parts you cover.”

The slight insult made Lotor still.  “Well, you have no right to it,” Lotor agreed, airily now.  “Well above your station, I assure you.”

Jaw working, Shiro didn’t argue.  Lotor would always win, because he had all the power.  He only chummed around with Shiro when it amused him to do so.

Straightening back up, Lotor adjusted the tie of his robe.  “Do you think you can control your modesty for an actual lesson?”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded and stood.  “I think so.”  His head still ached, but it was tolerable.  Besides, Lotor was certainly skilled.  Shiro would pick up something from him.  Anything that would keep him alive another day.

And anything to keep getting these extra meals. They were too infrequent to be adapted to, but they gave Shiro something to look forward to.  A more attainable goal than seeing Earth again.  It was hard to make it through the darker nights on thoughts of escape.  It was easier to power through to taste more of that roast bird.

“Charge me,” Lotor commanded, head held high.

Shiro had no choice but to obey.

In seconds, he was on his back, just the same as he had been that first meeting.  This time, Lotor loomed over him, one hand resting delicately on Shiro’s chest, the bare skin of their legs pressed together hotly. Half of his hair escaped, flowing in a curtain over the side of their faces so Shiro could only see part of the room.

In short, it was terrifying intimate.

“How did you do that?” Shiro asked, breathless from slamming against the floor.

Lotor smirked, his eyes roaming over Shiro’s face with open satisfaction.  “I worked with your momentum and pushed you along.  Simple.”

Similar to some of the hand-to-hand techniques Shiro already used, but just different in execution to be surprising.

“Show me,” Shiro asked, eyes bright. Then, belatedly.  “Please, Prince.”

Lotor met his eyes.  For a long moment, Shiro wasn’t sure if he was upset or not at the demand.

But then he pushed off and offered Shiro that delicate-looking, deceptively strong hand.  “Of course.  That’s the purpose of this exercise, after all.”

Shiro took it.

And then he was on the ground again, Lotor pressed to his back and arm locked behind him.

Sneaky bastard.

“The purpose, you said?” Shiro asked, voice dry.

Lotor let out an amused huff.  “One of two.  The other is my amusement.  Now, say ‘My Prince.’”

Of course that was a purpose.

Despite everything, Shiro had to hide his smile against the floor.

Then he twisted, pushing off and rolling at the same moment.  Surprised worked for him just as well as it did Lotor, and soon Shiro was straddling him, separated only by the loose, thin fabric of their robes. 

“My Prince,” Shiro drawled, brows up in challenge.

Lotor stared at him.  Then he threw his head back and laughed, free and happy.

Amusement was always one of Lotor’s purposes.  But, really, was that such a bad price to pay?

***

Opening his eyes, Shiro groaned into his pillow.

He wanted to shake his dream self, the ignorant bastard.  He had no idea who he was accepting help from.  In his dream, Lotor was just a strange prince with odd interests.  The cost was in the future, so why not take advantage of the help and comforts offered now?  After all, it wasn’t like Lotor did anything bad.

But he’d always held all the cards.  In the dreams, Shiro was a pet.  Take the dog out of the fighting ring and bring it into the house, but never let it forget it still needed to fight to earn its place.

The dream Shiro had never known what Lotor was really like.  Hadn’t heard of him taking over worlds, seen the anger and frustration of his team as they fought him.  He’d never been the brains behind a theft that nearly killed everyone and destroyed Voltron, while Shiro watched in helpless frustration.

Assuming the dream was even real.

Sitting up, Shiro scrubbed over his face and glanced at the console.  02:00 castle time.  He had four more vargas before his alarm would go off.  Was it worth trying to get more sleep?

Probably not.

Especially not with the memory of Lotor holding him down, claws sharp and hands warm.

Shiro shivered.  It was mostly from the idea of Lotor holding him down, and his frustration that he’d allowed it with such good humor.  That was his warden!  Someone who bought him for nights at a time for his voyeuristic curiosity.  The prince of the very empire that had kidnapped him and forced him to fight.

The same empire that had cast him out and made him an enemy.

All over that comet and those ships.  Lotor still insisted he had them just to match Voltron.  Shiro wasn’t sure about that.  It seemed like Lotor’s plans were rarely that simple.

The memory of the hands still remained on Shiro’s skin, in the center of his back and right between his collar bones.  

Lotor had been very warm, and Shiro had very little friendly-ish contact during that time.

Even now.  Shiro rarely touched skin.  A lot of that was his fault, since he wore so many layers, and he preferred to pat shoulders, where there was always clothing.

Maybe that was something Shiro should work on.  A simple brush of hands on his torso shouldn’t stick with him like this.

Which was worse?  That Shiro had been so affected by Lotor in his captivity, or that Shiro was equally breathless just dreaming of Lotor’s hands.

Both made his skin crawl.

Okay, no, there would be no more sleeping tonight.  Shiro stood and pulled out his toiletries.  A shower would help wake him, and then Shiro would face the day.

***

Cleaned and dressed, Shiro stepped into the control room and scrubbed over his eyes.  He was still  at little groggy, so something light would be best.  He could go over the various transmissions they’d received from the different factions in the Coalition.  Unless they were emergencies, those tended to pile up, since they were just status reports.  Someone had to tackle them sooner or la-

There was already a screen on in the room.

Shiro paused, then stepped forward quietly.  He moved over to the chair in front of the screen, normally occupied by Allura.  If she’d been up all night, he should have a talk with her.

But it wasn’t Allura sitting there.  It was Keith.

Keith, who had his knees drawn up to his chest, and whose eyes were ringed with dark smudges.

“You alright?” Shiro asked, voice soft and gentle.

Keith didn’t start.  He’d always had sharp hearing.  In hindsight, Shiro wasn’t sure if it was from his Galra heritage, or if he was just in the habit of watching his surroundings closely.  Maybe a mixture of both.

Instead, he looked up at Shiro and took a deep, fortifying breath.  “Yeah.  Why are you up?”

“The usual reason,” Shiro admitted, keeping his voice flip as possible.  It was probably wrong of him, to hide behind his flashbacks and nightmares.  But, well, what else was Shiro supposed to say?

Keith nodded, his expression softening.  “Yeah.”

Brows up, Shiro eyed him.  “You too?”

For a moment, Keith hesitated.  But Shiro’s perceived honesty must have pressured him to answer in kind, because he nodded.  “Me too, yeah.”

Sitting on the arm of the seat, Shiro looked down at him.  “I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it, huh?”

“Do you?”

Shiro’s stomach flipped.  “Not really.  Fair enough.”  He watched Keith flip through the latest reports from the Blade of Marmora.  “Just keeping up with them?”

Nodding, Keith leaned back in his chair.  Now that Shiro had given up questioning him, he visibly relaxed.  “A bit.  They don’t say much.  You know how they are.”

“They have good reason to be.  We don’t say that much to them, either.”  Shiro’s hands twitched in his lap.  “It’s a shame, though.  You’ll have a lot to catch up on the next time you see them.”

Keith’s eyes flicked over to Shiro, lips pressed thin.  “You’re not subtle, you know.”

“I’m not?”  Shiro blinked, falsely innocent.  “Subtle about what?”

Reaching up, Keith shoved Shiro’s side.  It was enough to make Shiro lean to the left, but not quite enough to knock him off his perch.  “You can just ask what I’m planning on doing.”

Shiro’s lips quirked.  “Honestly, I figured you were winging it.  I understand why you want to stay.  Lotor’s here now, and you’ve been pretty focused on him.”

“For good reason,” Keith replied darkly, scrolling down the reports once again.

“Absolutely.  We still don’t know what his plans are.  I’m all for having everyone on guard for whenever he decides to strike.”  Shiro blinked, remembering Lotor leaning over him, white hair falling over his shoulder and the side of his head, lips curled up in self-satisfaction.

Keith nodded, straightening up.  “Exactly.  This is the best place for me.”

For a moment, Shiro let that hang.  “Even if Lotor wasn’t here, that would still be true.”

Head snapping up, Keith stared at Shiro.  Then he sighed.  “I- Yes and no.”

“Because of the lions?” Shiro asked.  “We can work that out without you going with the Blade of Marmora.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Keith shot back, his eyes narrowing.  “It helped, yeah.  But there was Lotor, and… My mom was one of them.  I was hoping I could find out more.”

Shiro’s stomach dropped at the confession.  “Did you?”

Shaking his head, Keith sighed.  “Not really.  Blade of Marmora… it has a pretty high turnover rate.  Considering how long it’s been, no one’s really sure who had my blade before me.  They don’t really keep detailed notes on members, either.  There’s memorials, but some have been lost if the empire realized there was a rebel base.  Even those just usually have a name and one line of information.  Not even dates of birth.”

“And if she never came back, they wouldn’t have known when she died, either,” Shiro continued, eyes falling closed.  “I’m sorry, Keith.”

“Don’t be.  It’s not your fault.”  Keith sighed and dropped his legs back down, stretching them in front of him.  “I don’t know that it’s anyone’s fault.”

Shiro hesitated, then put his hand on Keith’s shoulder.  “I don’t have to be at fault to be sorry.  You’re hurting.  I wish I could help.”

That earned him another glance, this one softer.  “I know. But no one can, not really.  I’ll just keep an eye out, I guess.  It’s a long shot, but…”

“Hey, Pidge beat the odds,” Shiro pointed out.  “Matt’s on the ship now, despite everything that could have gone wrong.  Whoever your mom is, she’s probably a survivor.  Like you.”

Slowly, Keith’s lips pulled up.  “Yeah.  I could believe that.”  He reached over, resting his hand on top of Shiro’s.  Then he dropped it.  “Me being with the Blade does work out.  You can’t argue that.”

“Watch me,” Shiro pointed out.  “You deserve to be a paladin.  Black chose you.”

This time, Keith shook his shoulder hard, knocking the hand away.  Automatically, Shiro pulled back and curled his hand against his chest, a little stung.

Keith turned to stare Shiro down.  “I did that because you were gone.  You were gone again, Shiro.  I hated it.  I missed Red and I missed you and everyone was telling me to just give up when you were out there.  Then you came back and you kept saying it was fine, but I know you.  So stop lying to me!”

The force of the last words made Shiro lean back, eyes wide.  His heart pounded in his chest as he looked over Keith’s dark expression.  “I-”

Slowly, Keith slumped back again.  He scrubbed a hand over his face.  “Sorry.  I shouldn’t have- forget it.”

“No.  No, you’re right.  I wasn’t okay.  I still don’t know what happened that made Black not react to me.  It was…”  Shiro sighed, throat closing against the words.  Keith had been honest, so Shiro should to.  But it was hard to talk about.

Keith shook his head.  “I get it.  Then I was doing a bad job at it, and I know how you get.  You always want to take the reins when you think you could do better.”

It wasn’t inaccurate, but it was unflattering.  Shiro winced and tried not to think of all the times he’d complained to Keith about other pilots doing a worse job than he could have.  His tone over the comms had probably been pretty damn similar.

“It’s not that you did a bad job,” Shiro replied, voice firming.  “Inexperienced, yes.  But you came up with a solution I didn’t think of.  The best I had was just… take the hit.  You were the best person in that situation, I promise you.”

Keith watched Shiro through his bangs, lips thin.  It was clear he didn’t trust the praise.

Dammit.

“I’m serious,” Shiro said.  “I really am.  You did an amazing job.  Yes, there were things I would have done differently from you.  There are things I would have done differently from Iverson or Allura or Commander Holt or anyone.  You’re a different person than me.”

Keith finally sighed, dropping his head.  “I guess.  But you just… you get it.  You’re good at being the Black Paladin.”

“I fake it,” Shiro replied, a laugh slipping into his voice.  It wasn’t a very nice sound.  “If I was so good, Black wouldn’t have rejected me.”  When Keith started to speak, Shiro held up a hand.  “All of this isn’t the point anyway.  Keith, you did a good job.  I’m proud of you.  My behavior was on me, not you.  I was short tempered because I don’t do well with sitting around and watching.  But this isn’t about what I want to do, it’s about what’s best for the team.  That was no reason to speak to you with that tone.  It wasn’t about you, it was my insecurities.  Stop beating yourself up because of it.”

Keith blinked rapidly, processing that.  Then he straightened, meeting Shiro’s eyes directly.  “Only if you stop using me as Black Paladin to insult yourself.”

Freezing utterly, Shiro stared back.  “What?”

“I hate it,” Keith said, dark and vehement.  “I hate that you use me flying Black as a way to tell yourself you were never that good to begin with.  I did it for you, Shiro.  I stepped up only because you asked me to.  And now you use it against yourself, and I feel like it’s my fault for doing what you made me promise.  So stop it.”

Oh.

Oh,  _ Keith. _

Shiro closed his eyes hard and nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll agree to that.  Keith, I’m so sorry.  I’ve done you so wrongly recently.”

“You’re doing it again.”

Dammit.  Shiro took a deep, ragged breath.  “Yeah.  Habit.  Guilt.”  He flapped a hand vaguely around, indicating… well, everything.  “No matter what, though, you have a home here, okay?  With the team.  With me.”

Keith nodded slowly, swallowing hard.  “I know I do,” he replied, voice thick.  “I really do.  You miss me.  And… It’s been nice, to be the person missed, for once.”

Chest tight, Shiro managed a thin laugh.  “You’ve been missed before, Keith.”  At the curious look, Shiro shrugged.  “You think I didn’t miss you the whole trip to Kerberos?”

“Oh.”  Keith blinked, his eyes wide.  “I mean, yeah, but you were busy, and…”  He made a helpless roll of his shoulder, clearly lacking the words.

Shiro’s chested ached.  “I was the one who left.  Both times.”

“Yeah.”

Leaning forward, Shiro squeezed Keith’s shoulder again.  “And both times I missed you.  That week, when I was trying to get back to you all? I was thinking of you constantly.  I nearly died doing everything to return to you.  I was gone, but I wanted to be with you the whole time.”

Keith’s eyes slammed shut.  Slowly, he leaned into the touch, pressing his shoulder harder into Shiro’s hand.  “Thank you for coming back.”

“Always.  So long as you do to.”

Looking over, Keith managed a thin smile.  “How about we both just stay put for a while.”

Shiro smiled back.  “I can agree to that.  Now scoot over.”

Brows up, Keith obeyed, pressing himself as far to one side of the seat as he could.  He still grunted when Shiro squeezed in next to him, mostly because Shiro took up more than half the space.  “Why are we doing this?”

“Cause I want to sit in Allura’s fancy chair,” Shiro replied easily.  “And this makes it easier to read the reports with you.  I want to know what the Blade of Marmora are up to.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith gave a dramatic groan.  “Fine.”  But he did lean into Shiro’s side, and a smile curled the edges of his lips.

They were okay.  They always were. 

Sometimes it just took a little time to get there.

Leaning his head against the top of Keith’s, Shiro pointed a line from Kolivan about not repeating past mistakes.  “Hm.  This sounds like a story.”

“Not really, Kolivan just thinks I’m as reckless as you guys do.”

“So it’s definitely a story.”

With a laugh, Keith started to explain.

Shiro let their voices fill the room, banishing the last of the dream.

It didn’t matter.  Whatever had happened then, it was over, and it held no power over Shiro.  Then, he’d been alone, and afraid, and so desperate for any scrap of kindness he’d play whatever games Lotor wanted.

Now, it was Shiro in control, and surrounded by those who loved and supported him.

What else mattered?

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. I took a pause for the holidays, since I had the bad timing to be posting on both Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. Hopefully we're back on track.

Lotor eyed the training room with open appreciation.  “Interesting,” he murmured, glancing up at the ceiling.  His eyes darted along the glowing lines and juts in the wall, with more understanding that Shiro had.  “It has holographic capabilities?”

How had Lotor been able to tell?  Shiro glanced up as well, trying to figure out which areas had given it away.  It all looked the same to him.  

“Yes,” he replied.  “For now, I don’t think that’s necessary for your purposes.  You just wanted a place to move around.”

Lotor nodded and held out his arms, clearly anticipating being let free.  “True.  I was merely curious.  I have seen very little of Altean design in my life.”

Brows up, Shiro eyed Lotor.

It earned him a flat look.  “Yes, I am aware that’s my father’s fault.  Is that the source of your annoyance?  He has many other crimes to atone for, I assure you.  I am merely curious.”

Sighing, Shiro stepped forward and unclipped Lotor’s cuffs, then attached them to his belt.  He moved to the console by the door and activated security measures.  The door wouldn’t open to Lotor, now, and if he attempted to break through, the bots would help put a stop to it.  

“I don’t know a lot about how the room functions,” Shiro advised, stepping away.  “If you’re that curious, you can ask Coran about it.  He’ll have answers.”

Lotor tilted his head, considering that.  “I may,” he admitted.  “If I am assured I will not face consequences for the questions.”

Eying him, Shiro crossed his arms.  “Depends on how you ask the question.  If you’re rude and Coran knocks you on your ass, I see no problems with that.”

There was a moment of tension in Lotor’s jaw, almost like he’d started to pout and stopped himself.  “That is not what I am referring to.  I simply want to understand the technology better.  But if your Coran will take it as a threat to the castle or an attempt to escape, I wish to know now.”

Oh.  Shiro hadn’t thought of it that way, but he should have.  If Lotor had waltzed up to him one day and started asking questions about how Altean technology functioned, Shiro would have been instantly suspicious.

“I can’t guarantee that,” Shiro finally replied.  “He only has to explain what he feels comfortable telling you.”

Lotor’s lips thinned, but he nodded.  “Fine.”

Well, that settled that.  So Shiro nodded to Lotor, leaning against the wall.  He dropped his closed arms, because it would slow his reaction time if Lotor tried anything.  “So.  Exercise.”

Glancing back at the room, Lotor’s brows rose.  “No chance you’ll spar with me, I imagine?”

_ Lotor over him, hair a curtain beside them, hand on Shiro’s chest.  He felt so warm, it almost distracted from the pain of impacting the floor hard. _

Mouth dry, Shiro swallowed hard.  “No.”

“Some other time?”  Lotor tried.  “We agreed upon the laps, but surely it’s more engaging than leaning against the wall and watching me.”

Shiro’s heart continued to pound in his chest.  He inclined his head, considering it despite himself.  “It would give me an opportunity to learn more about how you fight.”  

At that, Lotor smiled, but some of the light went out of his eyes.  “That is also true.”

Which-

Told him nothing.

Shiro couldn’t ask.  Couldn’t give Lotor that chance to manipulate the situation, couldn’t bare to give him that knowledge.

He needed Lotor to drop some hint to confirm or deny the dreams without outright asking.

A spar might be the right way to do that.

It was stupid, and it was impulsive.  But Shiro had to  _ know. _

“Alright,” he replied, stepping forward.  “You’re right.  Sparring is more interesting than watching you walk around.”

This time, Lotor’s eyes lit up.  “Do you have practice weapons?”

Well, yes, they did.  Shiro was pretty sure he could find something that would let Lotor and Shiro fight without giving him something he could use against the rest of the team.  

But that wasn’t going to help, was it?

“I’d prefer not,” Shiro replied, slipping into a fighting stance.  “Unarmed for now.”

The amusement slipped off Lotor’s face immediately.  “Of course,” he replied, oddly respectful.  It sounded almost like regret.

Why?

But before Shiro could question him, Lotor darted forward, with the speed and force of a train.

Automatically, Shiro moved, ducking and moving his arms out.  He managed to get his hand on Lotor’s stomach, prepared to use his momentum to flip him.

Just like Lotor had done to him in the dream.

But Lotor grabbed onto Shiro’s right arm and ducked down, then to the side.  With a quick step, he was behind Shiro, twisting him and prepared to lock his arm up completely.

So Shiro turned it on.

Lotor let go with a yelp, stumbling back.  He worked his fingers like he was testing for injury, eyeing the glowing metal.  “You said unarmed!”

“Come take it off, then,” Shiro challenged, then grinned.

Lotor’s eyes narrowed, and his head tilted to the side like a bird.  Finally, his lips quirked up.  “When I have your arm as a prize, I am going to tell your paladins that I was simply obeying your directions.”

Brows up, Shiro quirked two metal fingers.  “You have to manage, first.  Let’s see it.”

With a flash of a toothy smile, Lotor darted forward again.

After that, Shiro kept his arm off, but Lotor never forgot it was there.  He focused on Shiro’s left side, keeping carefully out of range and never putting his hands on the metal for long.

They were well matched.  Enough that Shiro had trouble telling if Lotor was countering Shiro’s moves not out of familiarity, but just because he was a competent fighter.  Each strike had a counter, each blow parried and defected, every grab avoided.

Eventually, Shiro overreached.  He tried to get Lotor in the stomach with the metal arm.  Lotor ducked out of the way, leaving Shiro’s arm locked up to its full reach.

Taking advantage, Lotor grabbed Shiro by the shoulder, using his longer arm’s length and height to his advantage.  Then he started to twist and apply pressure down, forcing Shiro to his knees.

Which wasn’t about to happen.

Instead, Shiro twisted his wrist so he could wrap around Lotor’s bicep.  With his left hand the grip would have been useless, but his right was stronger.  

Grunting, Shiro rolled forward, forcing Lotor to fall with him.  Once he was off balance, Shiro reared back and threw him.

It shouldn’t have been possible, but Lotor’s feet left the ground, and he did nearly a full flip.  He landed squarely on his back.

“Ow,” Lotor muttered, bone dry.  He didn’t move, just stared at the ceiling with his hair fanned messily around him.

Standing back up, Shiro rolled his shoulders.  His arm was strong, but the rest of him was still human.  He’d be feeling that one in the morning.  “Did you break anything?”

“Merely my pride,” Lotor replied.  He sat up, brushing his fingers through his hair.  

Shiro blinked, then opened his mouth before he thought it through.  “Your pride is strong enough to take the blow.  Would you like a hair tie?”

Glancing back over his shoulder, Lotor nodded.  “That would be appreciated, if possible.  My braid won’t stay in without one.”

Braid.  Like in the dream.

That meant nothing.  Of course Lotor braided his hair.  It was several feet long, that was one of the best ways to keep it out of his face.

Even so-

“I’ll ask,” Shiro said.  At Lotor’s dry look, he snorted.  “Not for permission.  Why would I have a hair tie on me?”

Lotor’s eyes flicked up to Shiro’s hair.  “True.  You are fond of that hairstyle.”

Freezing, Shiro stared at him.  “I am,” he replied, as level as he could manage.

“It’s not an insult.  Just an observation.  It would be strange to see you any other way.  You had it in the arena, after all.”  Lotor pushed himself up.  

At first, Shiro’s heart picked up, but he forced himself to hold back.  Lotor could know that for any number of reasons.  Not because the dream was true.

“You should have seen me a few months ago, when my hair was long,” Shiro replied, forcing his tone light.

Glancing up at him, Lotor tilted his head.  “I wish I had.  I would find that amusing, I think.”

And amusing was what mattered most of all.

Lotor took the time to rearrange his armor, brushing it as if it had been dirtied from landing on the floor.  Then he looked up at Shiro, considering.  Almost soft.  “The arm has served you well,” he noted.

Chest tight, Shiro resisted the urge to clench it tightly.  “It has.  It’s been an invaluable tool against the empire.”

“It has,” Lotor agreed.  There was no disappointment, no anger.  Instead, he smiled.  It was pure, fanged satisfaction.

Lotor seemed glad that Shiro had used his arm to harm the empire.

Well, considering he’d become a traitor?  That did make sense.

“Again?” Lotor asked, arms coming up.  “This time it will not be so easy to surprise me.”

The real surprise was that Lotor still wanted to spar, after being tossed around like a sack of flour.

Well, who was Shiro to argue with that?  

He nodded and matched Lotor’s stance.  “Once more.  Starting… now.”  They both moved, ruthlessly fast despite the relatively casual nature of the fight.

One bout lead to another, to a re-match, on and on.  Forty minutes later, they were both sweaty and bruised.  

Calling the atmosphere friendly would have been going too far.  But the longer Lotor went without trying anything overtly evil, or doing Shiro serious harm, the better it felt.

Worse, it seemed like Lotor was enjoying himself.  He laughed, he made snarky comments, he postured.  But his expression was more open than Shiro had ever seen on him - maybe even in the dreams.

“I think that’s enough,” Shiro finally called.  He hesitated, then reached down to help Lotor stand.  

Nodding, Lotor gave a low groan.  “Yes, I believe that’s best.  Before I’m returned to my room, would it be too much to ask that I be allowed to use the facilities?  I would like to shower off.”

That was only reasonable, and not outside what Lotor was allowed anyway, so Shiro nodded.  “Not a bath?” He drawled, watching Lotor carefully.

That earned him a smile.  “I don’t believe I’ve seen one here,” Lotor replied.  “If I’m allowed, I would certainly like the chance to soak away the bruises.  But that would take some time, and I’m not sure you’re willing to wait that long.”

Heart pounding, Shiro took a deep breath.  “Not at the moment.  I haven’t seen a bath either, so you’ll have to make do.”

“A pity,” Lotor replied, playfully mournful.  “All this advanced technology, and no tubs.  Perhaps the Alteans have something to learn after all.”  He started for the door, then paused and went stiff.

Probably in pain.  His back was probably well bruised after those spars.  Shiro’s had always been, when Lotor flipped him down.

….If the dream was true.

“I think we can safely call this my win,” Shiro replied.  He pulled the cuffs off of his belt and held them out.

Lotor huffed and eyed them with obvious distaste, but obligingly offered his wrists.  “I would beg to differ.  Perhaps we should call this a draw?”

Gaze going flat, Shiro locked him in.  “So if I smacked you on the back right now, you wouldn’t be in pain?”

“If I kicked you in the knee right now, would you?”  Lotor tossed his head, forcing his hair back over his shoulder.  “Besides, it was a spar, that’s all.  I don’t understand this sudden desire to declare a winner.  You never bothered before.”

Shiro’s stomach dropped to his feet.

Pausing, Lotor glanced back at him.  “Ah.  We are still not talking about it?  My apologies.”

“Talking about what?” Shiro replied, voice only slightly strained.  

Lotor’s frown deepened.  “I think that should be obvious.”

Panic seized Shiro, freezing him from the stomach out.  But he managed to keep his breathing paced and even.

What did he say?  What did he admit?  

Just because some of the dreams were true, didn’t mean all of them were.  Right now, Lotor held all the cards, knew Shiro better than Shiro remembered him in return.  

He wouldn’t let Lotor hold that power over him again.

“Not to me,” Shiro replied evenly.  “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“All those quintents,” Lotor replied slowly, his brows drawing together in temper.  “All those times I trained you and helped you.  You’ve been reasonable.  More so than my father’s empire ever was to you.  But you still refuse to speak to me about any of it.”

Shiro met Lotor’s eyes directly.

Then he shook his head.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  This is about my captivity?  I don’t remember any of it.  When I escaped, I was hit in the head.  That entire year is gone.”

Eyes wide, Lotor stared back.  Then, slowly, he looked down at the mat instead.  “Oh.  I see.”

His voice was even.  Neutral.  Flat.

Stomach twisting, Shiro looked away too.  “As far as I’m concerned, our first meeting was recently, when you helped us.  Well, first direct meeting.”

“I understand,” Lotor replied.  He still didn’t look up, and his shoulders tightened.

If Shiro didn’t know better, he’d say Lotor was actually hurt.

That was regretful, maybe, but not as much as giving Lotor the chance to manipulate him.  

Shiro didn’t know what to do.  He was in far too deep, beyond over his head.  More like at the bottom of the ocean, in the dark and no idea which way was up.

But he had to figure it out.  Before anyone else found out.  He never, ever wanted the others to think of him the way he’d been forced to see himself.  A desperate dog, eager to lick any hand that fed him.  

Shiro hadn’t seen the end of those memories, yet.  The possibilities all turned his stomach.

“Perhaps you can tell me about it,” Shiro replied.  “Sometime in the future.  But for now, you probably want that shower, and we all have more important things to worry about.”

Apparently that had been the right words, because Lotor suddenly straightened, jaw set.  “You’re right.  There’s a bigger picture.  I would like that shower.  Lead the way.”

Despite everything, Lotor was still giving orders.

Absurdly, stupidly, Shiro found himself smiling.  Of course he was.

Lotor never changed.  He was the same as he was then, and he was the same when he tried to cat-and-mouse the team to their deaths.

“Let’s go, then.”  Shiro lead the way, keeping his head up and his eyes ahead.  Unaffected.  Ignorant.  No longer Lotor’s pet fighter.  Above that influence and the lows he’d fallen to.

Falling into step with him, Lotor didn’t say anything, but Shiro could feel his eyes burning holes in Shiro’s side.

Let him stare.  Let him wonder and plot and remember.

Shiro was not Lotor’s prisoner anymore.  He was his jailer.

He had the power, he had the control.  For once,  _ Shiro _ was in control.

He wasn’t going to lose it.

***

Shiro didn’t realize the guard were taking him a new path until they came to an abrupt stop.  He picked his head up, blinking at the plain, metal door.  There wasn’t even a label next to the door, though Shiro wouldn’t have been able to read it.  

Why were they here?

Turning, Shiro looked over the guard that wasn’t holding him still.  Their eyes glanced around, almost nervous.  Then they pressed their hand to the pad, which swung open.

Before Shiro could even look inside, he was shoved along, nearly dragged by the back of his jumpsuit.  Whatever was going on, Shiro these guards didn’t want to be caught.

Which meant-

Shiro didn’t know, but he doubted he wanted to find out.

But before he could do more than dig in his heels, he was tossed forward.  Shiro landed hard on his front, grunting with the impact and automatically curling in.

“What do you think you’re doing?”  A very familiar voice snapped.

Shiro’s head snapped up until he could see well crafted looking armored boots.  

Lotor’s boots.

“The Champion tends to resist being moved, Prince Lotor,” the guard replied, only slightly hesitant.  “Our job is to transport him to you quietly and discreetly.  We can’t do that if he fights back.”

Considering Shiro had very much been in the process of fighting, the guard had a point.

Lotor let out a low breath.  “You’re dismissed.  Return back in three varga.  And you are aware of the circumstances.”

“Yes, Prince Lotor,” replied the other guard.  With that, they stepped out, and the door shut.

Huffing, Lotor kneeled down and grabbed Shiro under his arms.  He heaved up until Shiro was sitting, then worked on uncuffing and unmuzzling him.  “No sense at all.  My father has much to answer for, but the qualities he looks for in soldiers rank high among them.”

Shiro worked his jaw until he felt it crack, then sighed in relief.  Much better.  “No arguments here.”  Then he glanced around, finally taking the room in.

It was storage.  All the crates and boxes were shoved hastily against the wall, making room for a fold-out table and two stools.  There was a covered platter sitting on it, the same silver that Lotor had in his rooms.

What was going on?

Looking up at Lotor, Shiro took in his face.  It had been… well, it was hard to say.  Probably a few weeks, which wasn’t that much longer than usual.  Shiro had wondered when his next break was, but otherwise put it out of his mind.  

Maybe he should have thought on it more.

Noticing Shiro’s stare, Lotor sighed.  “Yes, this room is not up to my usual standards.  I apologies for that, and for the fact that you will not be able to use my bath tonight.”

Shiro nodded his understanding, still looking Lotor over.  He seemed tired.  Thinner, maybe, but that might have been the dimmer lighting.  There was a hunch to his shoulders that Shiro hadn’t seen on him before, and bags under his eyes.  

“Can I ask why, Prince?”

For a moment, Lotor’s lips thinned, and Shiro was afraid even asking had annoyed him.  But then he stood, rolling his shoulders.  “I suppose you should know.  My father… he found out I’ve had you entertaining me.”

Shiro’s stomach dropped.

The Galra empire knew that Lotor had been buying Shiro out for evenings.

A shiver ran up and down his spine.

Something must have shown on Shiro’s face, because Lotor snorted.  “Quite.”  He offered his hand, which Shiro took and got to his feet.  “I let him continue with his assumptions.  It’s not exactly flattering to my station, that I’ve been paying for the services of a gladiator.  That you are the Champion makes it slightly better, but it’s unbecoming.  He was not well pleased.”

“Could-”  Shiro paused, rewording the question in his mind before he annoyed Lotor further.  “Is that preferable to knowing the truth?”

“That I pay to cheat the system?” Lotor drawled.  “Not necessary.  That I’ve let someone of such a low station take meals with me and acted… as we do?  Absolutely.  Taking what I want from you is understandable to him.  Enjoying your company for its own sake is unthinkable.”

Shiro frowned darkly.  “Oh.”  It shouldn’t have been surprising.  The man in charge of the empire that had kidnapped Shiro and made him fight to the death was a bad person.  It wasn’t surprising at all, actually.  But that was so… petty.

Laughing at Shiro’s apparent distaste, Lotor nodded.  “Yes, he’s been like that as long as I’ve known.  It is a pity.  The Galra were not always such a people.”  He pulled out one of the stools at the table, then gestured for Shiro to take the other.  “But I suppose mourning that in front of you is distasteful, considering you know more personally than I do.”

It was, perhaps, the first moment of true empathy from Lotor.  Shiro paused, surprised, then softened.  He took the offered seat gratefully.  After the last fight, Shiro could use a nice rest.  “I don’t mind listening.  I came to space in the first place to learn about other possible life in the universe.  You just made it all too real.”

Lotor looked over him, eyes warm.  It was easier to read his expressions than most of the Galra, since he actually had pupils.  “I suppose we did.  It’s disappointing that your first contact with another kind of being had to be us.”

“Disappointing is a word for it.”  Devastating, Shiro might have said.  Cruel, even.  

Lotor nodded and lifted the platter, revealing more of the roast bird from the first time.  It was a smaller one, without the sides.  “Hopefully this will be enough.  Since I could not order it under my own name, it will not be as impressive.”

“It’s much better than any other meals I get,” Shiro pointed out, not sure if he was amused or annoyed.  Of course Lotor would apologize that the meal was slightly less than usual, knowing full well the rest of the time that Shiro ate slop.

Lotor’s lips pulled down.  “That is precisely why I should apologize,” he replied, voice hardening.  “You receive so much less than you are due the other days.  It galls me to feed you below what I could provide on these few occasions.”

Oh.

Watching as Lotor served, Shiro took a deep breath.  “Why are you doing this, Prince?”

Stilling, Lotor glanced at Shiro.  “This again? I’ve told you before, Champion.”

Shiro flinched at the name.

Shoulders slumping, Lotor sighed.  “I apologize.  Shiro.  It’s a habit, especially when you call me Prince.”

“You want me to call you Lotor?”

Lotor’s brow furrowed as he placed slices on Shiro’s plate.  “I-”  He finally looked over.  “Very, very few beings call me that.  Only close allies.”

Frankly, Shiro was surprised anyone called him by his given name.  Now that he knew someone else did, his chest felt tight.  

He wanted to have that permission, same as he wanted Lotor to call him Shiro.

This had gotten so far out of hand, hadn’t it?

“I was making a point,” Shiro replied.  “And, forgive me, but you’ve given me a reason, but not full one.  If I was simply entertainment, you wouldn’t sneak around like this to see me.”

Lotor snorted.  “You underestimate the amount of time I spend behind my Father’s back.  If I did not sneak, I would never do anything I want.”  But his smile faltered.  “The basic idea has always been true.  The way you fight is… different.  So much of the empire is based on pure strength.  The strong will survive, the weak will die, and those with the power have taken it by force.  I am not well suited to that environment, as you can tell from looking at me.  While I have skill with a blade, in a challenge of pure strength, I would never win.  And usually, neither would you.  But you are victorious, over and over and over.  Because you are clever and resourceful, you overcome enemies many times your size.  I saw myself in your struggle, and so I decided to help.”

Oh.

That made sense.  Perfect sense, actually, with the way Lotor had gone outside the rules of the game to help Shiro.  Training, food, rest, treatment - all of which gave a small advantage to a combatant he favored.

Lotor had been telling the truth.

So why was Shiro so unsatisfied?

“Thank you for telling me, Prince,” Shiro replied softly.  He stared down at his plate and waited for Lotor to begin eating.  

Lotor sighed.  “You-  Some days, I wonder how you survive.  You show your emotions so strongly.”

Glancing up, Shiro straightened and schooled his expression into the tense neutrality he kept among the guards and other prisoners.  “Apologies, Prince.”

“No!”  Lotor paused, like his own exclamation surprised him.  “No.  I did not mean for you to stop.  I-”  He dropped his fork and gestured toward his plate.  “Eat, Shiro.”

For a moment, Shiro hesitated.  He wasn’t sure what the problem is, and what was causing Lotor so much distress.  But Shiro was so hungry after weeks without any extra meals, and the allure of the scent was too powerful.  So he started to eat, watching Lotor carefully between bites.

Finally, Lotor picked his head up and watched Shiro, like he had on that first day.  But this time, there wasn’t the clinical, scientific interest.  Emotions flashed behind his eyes, too fast to properly follow.  “Never hide yourself like that from me again,” he ordered, low and dark.

Shiro swallowed hard, a bite of the bird going down painfully.  “Yes, Prince.”

“Lotor,” he corrected, suddenly vehement.  “Yes, you should call me that.  And I’ll call you Shiro.”  Shaking his head, Lotor let out a dark laugh.  “You have no idea what that means to me.”

Shiro probably didn’t, honestly.  So he wasn’t about to argue when Lotor was going through such trouble for him and acting so oddly.  “Lotor, then.  Thank you.”

Nodding darkly, Lotor went back to staring at his own plate.

Shiro ate as slowly as he could force himself, savoring each bite.  When he finished his slices, Lotor carved him one more.  By the time Shiro had finished that one, about half an hour had passed.  It was hard to say how long that was in vargas, so Shiro wasn’t sure how much time they had left.

“Thank you,” Shiro finally said, voice soft.  “I know you don’t feel like it’s much, but these meals are something I look forward to greatly.”

Eyes daring up to Shiro’s, Lotor gave a tiny nod.  “I’m sorry I can’t do more for you,” he replied.  “I- I asked questions.  About how to free you.  A price I could pay, but they won’t allow it.  You are too much of a draw, and there are other interested parties.”

Shiro’s stomach flipped.  “Like who?”

Flapping his hand, Lotor sighed.  “I don’t know specifically, but probably several groups.  Smaller, private arenas.  Groups that study new types of beings.  Advertisers, even.  All or none of them.”

That was a new horror.  That if Shiro ever became less valuable and managed to survive the process, that he could just be sold off.  He might wake up one day and be dragged away to a new form of torture, without even the few benefits of this one.

“I do have quite a lot of sway,” Lotor reminded.  “If they ever look to sell, I would step in.  Then- well, I’m certain I could figure out something for you to do.”

Shiro managed a thin smile.  “Your food taste tester, maybe?”

Laughing, Lotor nodded.  “Yes, exactly that.  The perfect conclusion.”  He smiled, eyes warming.  “Until then, I’ll do what I can for you.”

“What about-?”  Shiro winced and cut himself off.

Lotor’s brows came together.  “Yes?”

“You can already get me away from the guards,” Shiro replied, voice quiet.  Small.  “What if you had me brought closer to the hangar or ships or anything like that.”

What if Lotor helped Shiro escape?

There was silence.

When Shiro finally chased a look up, Lotor’s eyes were closed and his lips were pulled down.  

Shiro’s stomach dropped.

Yeah, he’d thought so.

“I would like to,” Lotor finally replied, slow and halting.  “I don’t wish for you to have this life, Shiro.  I never wish to see you fall, and I have come to detest your pain.  But there are other concerns I have.  Now that my father knows, my involvement would be obvious.  Even if there was no evidence, I would be blamed.  And everything would be ruined.”

Shiro closed his eyes and nodded.  “I understand.”

Shiro wasn’t worth the risk.  Of course he wasn’t.  The consequences of being found out would be extraordinary.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though.

“I’m sorry,” Lotor said, voice strained and taut as a bow string.  “If things were different…”

Of course.

His best chance at escape, with the only Galra Shiro had ever met who had sympathy for him.

Yet he was still denied.

Shiro would keep looking.  Shiro would keep trying and waiting and straining.

But the longer he stayed here, the less hope he had.  Earth felt like a fever dream, a fantasy he made up.

“I’m sorry,” Lotor repeated, softer now.  He stood, then stepped closer to Shiro and paused.

When Shiro looked over, Lotor was kneeling in front of him.  Carefully, he took both of Shiro’s hands in his and held them.  “I cannot give you all the things you deserve.  For that, I cannot apologize enough.”

“I understand,” Shiro croaked.  What Lotor offered was still so much more than anyone else.

It just hurt, was all.  Lotor would be killed for helping, probably, or face other horrible consequences.  Shiro didn’t expect anyone to die to help him go home.

But the disappointment crushed him, like he’d swallowed a lead weight and let it stay in his chest.

Lotor looked over his face, his own eyes wide.  Vulnerable.  Almost childishly distraught.  “I will try and sneak you away more,” Lotor continued.  “There are guards who can be trusted to deliver you without question, if provided enough money.  So long as I give my father no reason to suspect, this time, I can help you more.”

Nodding, Shiro took a deep breath.  “Thank you,” he managed, because he should be grateful.  Lotor was still risking a lot.  More than Shiro could have reasonably asked of him.

“I know it’s not enough,” Lotor continued.  “I’m sorry.  I cannot risk what I have started, even for you.”

Shiro laughed.  “Of course not.  Not for your entertainment.”

Lotor’s eyes went wide.

It was a low blow, but it was true, so Shiro just stared steadily back.

“You are more than that,” Lotor replied, low and vehement.  “You are someone I enjoy speaking to.  You are an inspiration to me in battle, for your extremely limited resources and huge disadvantages.  You are someone with wit and strength despite everything the empire has done to crush you.  You are someone I admire.  You are someone I allow to use my name.”

Shiro winced and closed his eyes.  Then he gave a tiny, jerky nod.  “I know.”

“I don’t think you do.”

Then Lotor pushed up and kissed him.

Eyes snapping open, Shiro pulled back in utter shock.  “What-?”

Lotor paused, then straightened.  “I- I apologize.  That was ill done of me.  After what I have told you, I have no right to do that.  I simply wished you to understand.”

Still gaping, Shiro shook his head.  “You- that… is that - a kiss - is it the same for you as for us?”

“Intimate contact.  Personal interest.”  Lotor’s brows rose.  “Is that what a kiss means to you?”

It was.  What was the likelihood that the press of lips meant the same thing to both their species?

Then again, what was the likelihood that they would look so similar, other than coloration size?

“I find you intriguing in many ways,” Lotor continued.  “Including when you wear that robe.”

Shiro’s cheeks colored.  “You- is that why you stare?”

“Only more recently,” Lotor replied.  He stood.  “It was still inappropriate of me.  As I said to you before, I have no interest in forcing anything.  I have never needed to nor desired to.”

The same thing applied now that Shiro had thought then - Lotor had all the power here.  If he was displeased with Shiro’s response, he would take away the benefits Shiro wanted.

After being told Lotor’s plans were worth less than Shiro’s suffering, he should shove Lotor away.  Rage against him, never want to see him again.

But Lotor was the only source of relief in all these months.  

How long had it been since someone had touched Shiro without the intent to hurt him?

“I’m not forced,” Shiro replied.  “I don’t like your answer, but… Can we try that again?”

Lotor stared, looking utterly shocked.  “Truly?”

“Yes.”

Bending down, Lotor wasted no time in questioning or second guesses.  He pressed his lips to Shiro’s, firm and eager.  One of his hands came up to cup Shiro’s jaw, and the other settled on the small of Shiro’s back.

After the last fight, his mouth probably tasted like blood and dirt.  Lotor’s tasted like the wine he favored.

Shiro had missed that taste.  He wanted more.

So he opened his mouth to let Lotor in, and gave himself over.

I was the wrong thing to do.  This entire situation was a powder keg, and Shiro was sitting on the center of it.  

But if Lotor wanted to make Shiro feel good, be it with food, wine, or sex-

Shiro wasn’t going to say no.

Anything that wasn’t more pain.  

***

Shiro stared up at the dark ceiling.  Then, slowly, he brought both his hands up and covered his face.

Then he started to snicker.  It built, becoming bursting noises that choked out of him like water cracking through a dam.

By the end, Shiro wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying.

He really had fallen that low.

Turning over, Shiro closed his eyes, and tried to will himself into believing it was a nightmare.

It didn’t work.

***

“Another fleet here, and then here.”  Lotor tapped a finger to the star chart and stepped back, hands clenching and unclenching at his side.

The hologram was covered in bright yellow marks.

Each of those marks was an entire fleet of ships.

It wasn’t completely unexpected.  For all Voltron had taken out, there were so, so many more ships they had never encountered.  Now that the coalition had taken over a third of the galaxy, the Galra were going to be more densely packed in their space.

This was Lotor’s estimation, combined with previous knowledge of this sector.  Right now, it was all unverified.  They’d send a copy of this to the rebels and to the Blade of Marmora to have it checked.

But it was terrifying plausible.

Shiro took a deep breath.  He kept his hands folded in his lap and his eyes on the map.  Better than looking at Lotor and remembering the taste of his mouth.  “Alright.  Well, if we start to flip more planets, this map might change.”

“You’ll be flipping citizens,” Lotor corrected.  He glanced back at Shiro, brows up.  “Soldiers, thus far, have not responded to your shows.  It would be too dangerous for them to even acknowledge them.  I’d imagine any digital copies that might exist are contraband of the most dangerous sort.  When the break happens, it will be a flood at once.  Until then, you can’t expect much support from them.”

Keith snorted.  “The Blade of Marmora have been spreading the videos as much as they can.”  But he paused glanced over at Shiro, lips thin.

He nodded back, understanding.  “That’s on an individual level. It’s important to start getting it out there, but we can’t expect that to spread to billions of soldiers in a timely manner.”

What else was there to do, then?

“We still have wormhole travel,” Allura replied.  “It may be possible to avoid the most densely packed areas to attack from directions they won’t be expecting.”

Lotor nodded, eyes back on the hologram.  Shiro’s eyes automatically snapped to his profile, looking over and remembering ho his face had looked leaning in-

No.  No.  None of that.

“Yes, that would work for now.  But the more territory you take from the Empire, the less that will be possible.”  Lotor sighed.  “You’ll need a new plan eventually.”

Part of Shiro still balked at the idea.  The universe was infinitely vast, after all.  There was so, so much emptiness in space.  Surely there had to be areas they could keep to.

But not anywhere close to important sections of Galra territory.  And the empire had so many people and ships at their disposal.  An unfathomable amount, from Shiro’s human perspective.

“We need something big,” Shiro finally said.  “A game changer.”  He scrubbed over his face, then dropped his hands quickly.  A glance up proved that Lotor had caught the gesture, which made Shiro’s stomach turn.

Could he tell that Shiro had reme-

No, he was being ridiculous.  Lotor knew nothing.  As far as he was concerned, Shiro thought he was a stranger.  Just a prisoner with useful information.

That would never change.

“Bigger than Voltron?” Allura asked skeptically.  She squinted at the screen.  “There’s no more powerful weapon in the universe.”

“But Voltron is just one - or five - ships.  The Castle only makes six.  You won’t be able to be everywhere you’re needed.  What you need is an army that can match the Galra fleets.  Not just for one round of surprise attacks, but sustained combat.”  

Keith crossed his arms, lips pressed thin.  “We have people who are willing,” he offered.  “And the Blade and the Rebels have been fighting for a long time.”

Sighing, Shiro shook his head.  “They have been, and they’ve been instrumental in getting us this far.  But this is a different kind of warfare.  That was fighting from the shadows.  Our last big battle was the first in a new stage of combat.  Coordinating troops, defending territory and trying to gain more… nothing the rebels or the Blade of Marmora have ever had to do.”

“Exactly,” Lotor agreed.  “But that the Galra are specifically trained for.”

Allura’s chin rose.  “They’ll learn.  We’ve all adapted this far, and we won the last battle.”

“There won’t be a traitor to help you out in every impossible situation,” Lotor replied.  “If I hadn’t stepped in, you’d all be dead.  This entire section of the universe would be dead.  I’m not even the first traitor to help you out of certain death, either.”

Snorting, Keith straightened up in his seat.  “You want a medal?”

Lotor bared his teeth back, the gesture so Galra that Shiro started.  But Keith barely blinked - he was probably more used to those mannerisms than he used to be.  “That’s not my point!  My father and Haggar have had ten thousand years to fortify their hold.  Your blows are impressive - beyond what anyone would have dreamed in such a short time.  But you are not prepared for this next phase.”

“We can learn, like Allura said,” Shiro replied.  “It’ll be a change, but everyone is motivated to hold on.  This is their freedom.  They have something to fight for.”

“As you say,” Lotor agreed, if slightly reluctantly.  

Keith’s jaw set, and he glanced back over at the flood of yellow dots over two thirds of the map.  “But it’ll take time,” he finally allowed.

Stomach twisting, Shiro nodded.  “It will.  And we don’t have the luxury of a learning curve.  We’ve managed so far, but it was only the seven of us.  This kind of coordination is…”

Shiro had been trying his best.  They all had.  Matt had been running himself ragged, going back and forth between the rebels and Voltron.  Keith was in constant contact with the Blade of Marmora, who were doing their best with their very limited numbers.

But that didn’t make them an army.

The best thing they could have was a structure, like they’d had back at the Galaxy Garrison.  One of the benefits the paladins had was that they had a command system already ingrained into them by their training.  It had made working as a unit far smoother than if everyone had been trying to do their own thing.  Plus, Voltron itself had a built-in leadership hierarchy.

There was no such thing for the groups of the coalition.  Where did the Blade and the Rebels rank among each other?  Were those who had lead battles going to become full-on commanders now?  Did they even want to?

Figuring all that out was a matter of weeks.  Months.  Years.  Made worse by the fact that they couldn’t afford any mistakes, or else give the Galra the chance to break back through.

“It’s not just units, either,” Lotor said.  “Haggar had been working on projects for decapheobs, all with the intention of collecting more and more quintessence.  The volumes they have are incredible.  They don’t just have numbers on their side - they can enhance any of their weapons like they did that bomb planet, or their long-range cannons.”

Allura sighed and slumped slightly, her eyes clenched shut.  “I refuse to give in and accept that we’re doomed to failure.”

There was a pause.  “That is not at all my intention,” Lotor replied.  “Simply to impress upon you that you need something to change the balance of the scales.”

“We need another Voltron,” Keith muttered.  “No, we need a dozen Voltrons.”

Finally, something clicked.

“Your ships,” Shiro breathed, looking at Lotor.  “That’s what you’re getting at.  You made new ships with that comet you used Voltron for.  Where’s the rest of them?”

Lotor’s eyes brightened triumphantly, then looked back away.  “My generals took them when they knocked me out and tried to use me as a peace offering to the empire.  But yes, that’s what I mean.”

Making a quiet noise of understanding, Allura eyed him.  “That’s what you want?  For us to get your ships back?”

“No,” Lotor replied.  “Well, I suppose yes, if they turn up.  I’m sure you have some way of tracking us.  You certainly had a habit of showing up at the worst time.”

Keith bared his teeth right back, eyes bright with satisfaction.  “If you weren’t getting up to your awful plans, you wouldn’t have been caught at them.”

That made Lotor’s lips press thin, but he only nodded.  “Yes, well, regardless.  I have no idea where those ships are.  Or, rather, I have suspicions, but nothing worth chasing.  Besides, they’re just two more.”

“Then what’s your point, Lotor?” Allura asked, voice hardening.  She pushed out of her seat, hands clasped behind her back.  “Enough trying to talk us into it and just explain what you mean.”

Unable to help it, Shiro let out a tiny snort.  When everyone turned to look at him, he held up his hands.  “Sorry.  Just- that seems unlikely.”

Lotor stared at Shiro, all too piercing.  Then he inclined his head, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips.  “Yes, that would not be much like me.”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Keith said, still leaning forward.

Shiro pressed his lips thin to keep from snorting again.  

Jaw working, Lotor visibly stalled himself from snapping back, then straightened.  “The reason I had the ships made was to try and create a spacial rift like you found the other comet at.”

“You lead us to, you mean,” Allura corrected flatly.

Lotor flapped a hand, acknowledging her.  “That.”

“Create one,” Keith repeated back slowly, as if testing the words in his mouth.  “How do you just… make one of those?  From what Pidge said, it was using a ridiculous amount of energy.”

For a moment, Lotor’s lips pressed then, but then he seemed to let go.  “I’ve been following research on the subject.  There was an area that already had a portal opened.  The theory was that the comets-created ships, when infused with quintessence, would be able to pass through.  Once on the other side, we would have access to near unlimited quantities of quintessence.  The space between universes is nothing but energy.  It could be harvested.”

“But it didn’t work,” Shiro murmured.  “If it had, you wouldn’t be here.  You’d be in another dimension or making a bid against your father, or whatever your greater plan was.”

Eyes closed, Lotor nodded.  “Correct.  I’m not sure why.  Voltron can pass through, as you proved.  It seemed to support my theory that you needed a ship made of inter-dimensional material to get past the rift.”

This was so far above Shiro’s pay grade.

Glancing over at Allura, Shiro tilted his head.  “We should bring Pidge in if we discuss this more.  Matt too, I think.”

“We’ll bring everyone,” Allura agreed.  “But I think I know why Voltron could when the other ships could not.”

Lotor stilled completely, his eyes wide.  “Which is?”

Turning away, Allura’s eyes drifted off into one corner of the room.  It took Shiro a moment to realize she was staring at Blue’s hangar on the other side of the castle.  “The lions are not merely ships.  They are presences.  My father said that they nearly engineered themselves, including the form they take.  Did you find something similar in the creation of your ships?”

For a moment, Lotor stared at Allura like she’d lost her mind.  Then, slowly, he shook his head.  “No.  It was done by drone.  We were not even present for much of it.”

“That’s why,” Allura declared, chin held high.  “You made the ships, but they aren’t complete.  They won’t be until they take the right forms.”

And they had one of those ships to see what that form was.

Lotor continued to glance between the three of them, lips thin.  “I see.  I’m not quite so convinced, but it seems there was information I didn’t have on the construction of Voltron.”

“This is all moot,” Keith said, voice raising.  “Because we’re not flying Voltron into a rift like that.  Right?”  His eyes darted between Shiro and Allura.  “Last time we went through, there wasn’t tons and tons of quintessence around.”

“This would be a different kind.”

Keith snorted.  “You were wrong before,” he pointed out sharply.

Fists clenching at his side, Lotor narrowed his eyes.  “That does not mean I’m wrong about everything.  A rift to the space between universes had been created before.  It was an accident created by a natural phenomenon, and thus unstable.  A controlled, specifically created version would be different.”

“Or we’d open it up to more monsters.”  Shiro raised his brows at Lotor, cold certainty blooming in his chest.  “We do know about the rift you’re talking about.  The one that destroyed the Galra homeworld, right?”

Lotor gaped.  “How- it took me decapheobs of research to learn about that.  Where did you find this information?”

“Coran was there,” Allura said airly.  She rubbed at her nails, openly smug at Lotor’s shock.  “As was my father.  I was alive for a significant portion of it.  Of course we know.”

Slowly, Lotor nodded.  “Yes.  That is true.  It is easy to forget, that you were alive so long ago.”  He scrubbed a hand over his face.  “So you understand the consequences of doing it poorly.  If my version fails, it will not work at all.  We can close the portal between uses so it won’t let anything out, and there’s no longer a planet there to destroy.  The threat is minimal.”

“The threat is universal,” Shiro replied.  He finally stood as well, hand braced on the back of his chair.  There was too much energy in him from this whole insane conversation.  “The threat is multi-universal.  You want us to let in what was trying to get through and attack before?”

Lotor gestured sharply to the hologram, head held high.  “I have yet to hear a better idea.  You cannot continue as you are.  The coalition has managed a strong victory, but you cannot run an empire on determination and hope, not against the Galra.”

So, chance unleashing a cosmic horror, or continue to fight the Galra as they were.

Shiro wanted to believe in the coalition.  They’d already done so much in such a short amount of time.

But, in his heart, he agreed with Lotor.  Everyone was used to fighting small, individual battles against a huge foe.  They had no idea how to hold onto a large portion of the universe.  Already, Galra forces were building on the border, in numbers that would take Voltron to fight off.  But everywhere.

They needed something big.

But something big didn’t have to be this.

“This isn’t a decision that needs to be made right now, or with just us,” Shiro said.  “We’ll talk to the rest of the team tomorrow.”

Keith nodded.  “And we should tell Kolivan as soon as possible.  He might have more information.”

Eyes narrowed, Lotor shook his head. “He won’t.  Most Galra don’t even know the name of the planet we came from. I had to dedicate serious research and all my resources to find out as much as I did.”

“The Blade of Marmora has been operating in the shadows for a very long time,” Allura pointed out.  “They have information that has long since been lost to the Galra, intentionally rubbed out by Zarkon. That’s the point of their organization.  And we will not even think about unleashing a cosmic horror upon the universe without informing our allies.”

Lotor held his hands up and shook his head.  “Fine,” he replied, trying for soothing.  Mostly managing, except for how tense his shoulders and jaw were.

Something Shiro knew because he knew Lotor’s body language well.

He’d been so distracted by the greater picture he’d managed to forget his dream.  But it all rushed back to Shiro at once.

So he looked away, staring at his feet instead.

“I’m so glad you approve.” Allura stepped closer, pulling the handcuffs out.  “I believe that’s enough for now.  We’ll continue this tomorrow.”

Sighing, Lotor didn’t fight being cuffed.  “I hope you don’t waste this opportunity,” he said.

“We’ll live with it if we must.”

Lotor snorted.  “Or you won’t.”

There was only stony silence in response.  Allura nodded to Shiro and Keith, then started to march the subdued Lotor back to his room.

The doors closed behind her.  The sound was unusually ominous.

“Getting to the rift.  That’s his plan,” Keith said.  He looked up at Shiro, deep tension lines around his eyes and between his brows.

They aged him significantly.

Those lines were there because Keith had come to save Shiro and gotten into this whole Voltron mess.  Then Shiro had pushed him into a leadership position.

Swallowing against the rush of emotions, Shiro nodded.  “I would guess so.  Or something involved with it.”

“So we don’t do it.”  Keith gestured for Shiro to sit, then flopped back in his chair.  “Whatever Lotor wants is bad news.”

Taking the seat, Shiro stared at the hologram.  They still needed to get it verified.  But no matter the specifics, the coming battles were going to be hard.  “I’m not sure it’s that simple.”

Keith huffed, but didn’t argue.  “I don’t like this,” he finally said.  “Both these choices are awful.  It’s picking our poison.”  Glancing over again, he looked over Shiro’s face.  “How do you stand it?”

Barking out a dark laugh, Shiro shrugged.  “I don’t.  But I keep going anyway and shoulder the consequences as best I can.  There’s no other choice.  Inaction isn’t an option.”

“It is one,” Keith replied.  “Just not one we’ve ever been good at.”

Smiling at the floor, Shiro nodded.  “I’ll agree with that.”

Silence hung between them, dark and heavy.

What to do?  Shiro found himself leaning more toward the risk-reward option.  The original portal had taken years to destabilize completely.  That gave them time to at least get started and push the Galra further.  Even if it wasn’t a permanent help, they could at least get their fighters trained and working as a unit.

But was that because Shiro’s dreams were bleeding into the daytime hours?  Neither Allura nor Keith seemed to want to consider the idea.  Mind, Keith hadn’t dug in his heels, and Allura hadn’t been candid yet.

Was Shiro biased in favor of Lotor?  After all this time, was he still letting himself be controlled?

Stomach twisting, Shiro fisted the fabric of his pants and swallowed hard.

He didn’t have the outside perspective to know one way or another.  But Shiro couldn’t tell anyone, either, without permanently ruining their opinion of him.  How he’d given himself over to Lotor.  What he’d been willing to do for extra meals and for the first scraps of kindness he’d found in captivity.

Shiro was weak.  At his lowest, he’d broken and given in.

He couldn’t stand to see that understanding in his team’s eyes.

More than anything, Shiro needed distance.  He needed a break to put his head back on straight and look at the situation with new eyes.

Except every night made it worse.

Shiro had to figure something out.  And soon.


	4. Chapter 4

"Stay still," Lotor ordered, his fingers digging into the muscles on Shiro's back.  "You're making this needlessly difficult."

Shiro signed and made a face at the floor.  It was cold, uncovered metal in the storage room, not unlike what was in his cell.  The biggest difference was that this was clean.  "I'm fine.  It's just bruising."

That only made Lotor hold on harder.  "You don't know that for certain.  Let me at least examine you."

"So you can do what?"  Shiro looked at Lotor over his shoulder, expression flat.  "This isn't like in your rooms, where you could treat it in your bath.  What's the point of knowing?"

Eyes narrowed, Lotor leaned back.  "Perhaps I can help in other ways."  There was a mulish set to his jaw and a fire in his eyes.  

He wasn't going to let this go.

With a groan, Shiro dropped his head.  "Fine."  It was Lotor's game, anyway.  Let him do what he liked.  Even if that meant prodding at the mottled bruises along his back.

For several long minutes, Lotor's fingers brushed along his spine.  Occasionally he would press in, and each time Shiro jolted from the pain.  Biting his bottom lip, he refused to make a sound.  It would increased their chances of being found out.  Even despite Lotor’s newfound desire to poke all of Shiro’s bruises, this time was precious.  Shiro didn’t want it cut short.

Five times, now, Lotor had met him after a fight, only to bring him to a new storage room.  Shiro had no idea what he was paying the guards to keep them from telling anyone what was happening, but it had to be substantial.

All to spend time with Shiro.

Because he reminded Lotor of his own struggles, apparently.  To keep Shiro winning.  And for whatever reason he cooked up behind those calculating eyes of his.

Lotor's fingers found a particularly sore spot, startling Shiro.  He finally let out a grunt, gripping hard at the edge of the crate-turned seat.  

Making a soft noise in the back of his throat, Lotor sighed.  "Apologies.  I had to see if anything was broken, there."

"It's not," Shiro managed, throat still tense and eyes screwed shut.  "I'd feel it if it was."

Lotor sighed.  "It seems you're correct this time.  I wish you would just tell me where you hurt most.  I might not have healing salves anymore, but at least you'll know the extent of the damage.  I fear one day you'll walk around with a broken rib and puncture your lung before anyone can help you."

Letting out a flat-sounding laugh, Shiro shook his head.  "They keep track in the arena.  If it's that bad they'd put me in one of those machines."  The terrible, dark tubes, that were freezing cold for the seconds it took Shiro to fall unconscious.  Run by the strange, pale Galra with the tuft of white hair who watched him with too-curious eyes.  Probably a Champion fan.  There were plenty of those around.

Lotor was one.  Or, at least, he had been.  But Shiro couldn’t compare the analytical looks of that particular medical Galra to Lotor, not anymore.  That first meeting, when Lotor had looked at him like an experiment, yes.

That wasn’t how Lotor looked at him anymore.  Despite everything, Shiro was grateful.

"Those scans are not infallible," Lotor replied.  "But I also want to know where it's safe to touch you."

Glancing over his shoulder again, Shiro gave a bland smile.  "You can touch anywhere you'd like, Prince."

Shiro had expected that to ear him a laugh, or at least a smile.  Instead, Lotor's eyes darted back to his back, lips pressed thin.

Huh.

Rather than answer, Lotor smoothed his palm up and down Shiro's back.  This time, there was very little pressure.  While Lotor was small for a Galra, his hands felt huge on Shiro's back, covering from his neck to below his shoulder blades.  He also ran warm, or at least it seemed that way to Shiro.  So few people touched him that he wasn't sure anymore.  

All he knew was that it felt nice.  The light touch didn't hurt, only soothed the sore, tense muscles.

"Is this comfortable?" Lotor asked.  He put slightly more of his weight into the touch, more present without actually digging in.

Ducking his head, Shiro nodded.  His eyes fell shut as all of him narrowed in on the point of contact between them.  When he focused on the gentle, warm pressure, the ache in his back faded away.  "Yes, that’s good."

Lotor nodded, though Shiro only knew from the movement of his hair.  "Good.  What about this?"

With that, he leaned forward and kissed the nape of Shiro's neck.

His lips were dryer than a humans, like he desperately needed chapstick.  Otherwise, it felt like a slightly bigger version of every kiss Shiro had received before.   The touch was feather-light, barely felt, but it still made the hairs stand up on the back of Shiro's neck, and his heart pick up speed.

Anticipation.

Shiro took a deep breath, then let it go.  Slowly, he relaxed under Lotor's touch, letting the heat of it fill him against the constant chill of the metal ship.

"Shiro?"  Lotor pulled back.  "Was that harmful?"

Shaking his head, Shiro leaned back into the touch.  "No.  It wasn't.  It was nice."

The lips came back, this time little more than a peck.  "You are sensitive here.  Is that true of all humans, or just you?"

Shiro's brows rose.  "Were you planning on having sex with other humans?  There's not a lot for you to choose from out here."

Just two others.

Shiro's stomach suddenly went icy.  Lotor wasn't thinking...?

But all he got was a snort.  "Don't be ridiculous.  I want to know if the reaction is typical of your species, or if it's a personal quirk.  I like finding the ways in which you are unique."

Oh.  That was kind of nice, actually.

"It's sensitive on most humans," Shiro finally replied.  "But usually not quite so much."

That earned him a thoughtful hum.  Lotor started to press a shower of kisses to the pale skin, starting right at the buzzed hairline and dipping down the line of Shiro's spine.  Once off his neck, he started to spread over the shoulders.

This time, Shiro's bruises twinged.  The press of Lotor's jaw sent sparks through him, and he had to grip harder at the crate.

It felt good, but edged with pain.  An electric mix that sat somewhere between the two.

While his mouth was occupied, Lotor started to smooth his hands over Shiro's bare sides and down his hips. .  Scooting closer, he wrapped his arms around Shiro's waist and tugged him back, bringing him flush with Lotor's clothed front.  His armor was cold and uncomfortable against the bruises, but it was still tolerable levels.

Especially because it meant that Shiro could let his head fall back and lean against Lotor's jaw.  He closed his eyes and relaxed into the steady presence behind him.

"You did well today," Lotor told him.

Shiro let out a dry laugh.  "I won," he agreed.  "I suppose that's what matters in the end."

Arms tightening, Lotor pressed his nose into Shiro's neck.  "It is," he agreed.  "I never wish to see you fail."  One of his hands came up, resting over the center of Shiro's chest.  He started to tap, a quick rhythm.  It took Shiro several seconds to realize it was in time with his own heartbeat.  "This was not an opponent you were well suited for."

No, it really wasn't.  Shiro's preferred targets were hulking and physical.  He had fought a rainbow assortment of aliens; humanoid and not, huge and small, willing and terrified.  But the large ones were generally used to using their brute force to win battles, making them slow to adapt.  They'd had one strategy that worked for them for battle after battle, or even for their whole lives.  But Shiro was too hard for them to hit, and he was very good at getting to their ankles or hamstringing them.

But Shiro's last opponent had been some tall, skinny alien with huge floppy ears like a rabbit, and changing skin like chameleon.  At first they'd done the usual new recruit song and dance- yelled to be freed, acted terrified of Shiro, tried to reason with the guards.

When none of that had worked, they'd blinked out and Shiro hadn't been able to see them at all.

Eventually, the footprints in the dirt gave them away.  But Shiro had spent a solid ten minutes on the defensive, trying and failing to predict where the opponent would strike next.

In the end, Shiro worst injury came from being slammed against the wall.  The alien had gotten unlucky when Shiro struck and caught them in the neck, nearly lobbing their head clean off.

That had been his 26th kill.

Shiro wasn't sure what it said that he'd killed more since he'd started to spend time with Lotor.  Maybe it was coincidence.  Maybe it was that Shiro was facing harder opponents with each fight.

Maybe it was that he had more to live for, so he protected his life more viciously.

Sighing, Shiro leaned back into the embrace, even as it made his back ache.  It felt too good not to.  The heat of Lotor, the gentle touches, the meals - all of it was a distraction.  Something to let himself fall into.

"Turn around for me," Lotor ordered.  But his tone was soft, no longer the imperious declarations he'd made in the beginning.  Now, it sounded like a request.  As if Shiro could say no.

Maybe he could.  But Shiro hadn't been tempted to try in a long time.

Once he was facing Lotor, those huge hands cupped either side of his jaw.  Lotor kissed him, soft and gentle.  Shiro immediately opened his mouth to him, but Lotor didn't take advantage.  Instead, he kept the touch light, his dry lips brushing gently over Shiro's.  "You have made me proud."

There was nothing to be proud of, in what Shiro did.  It was murder for entertainment.

He still closed his eyes and soaked in the praise like water in desert sand. 

"Thank you." Shiro returned the kiss, head tilting as his tongue flicked to lap over Lotor's bottom lip.  "You do help.  Even without the salve.  This helps."

Eyes warm, Lotor nodded and pressed their foreheads together.  "I'm glad.  I wish I could do more."  From the soft tone, he didn't just mean the lack of baths and healing anymore.

Shiro swallowed and pulled back, stomach twisting.  "I know.  You've said."

"If some much wasn't-" Lotor cut himself off and shook his head.  "There's no explanation I would give that would make this acceptable.  I know.  You suffer by my inaction."

Throat tight, Shiro's fingers dug into the metal box below them.  "Stop."

"It is not something you have to excuse," Lotor continued on.  "These visits are literally the least I can do for you.  I am sorry, Shiro.  I truly am."

"Shut up!"  Shiro surged up and kissed him, one hand coming up to hold onto Lotor's hair.  the loose braid fell apart, settling over Lotor's shoulders and clinging to Shiro's wrist.  "Please.  I can't- I don't want to think about that."

Lotor nodded, going in for another, gentle kiss.  "I simply- it is not right.  You are... you are more than this."

Eyes burning, Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  "Please, Prince.  I can't talk about this."

Because, yes, Lotor had the resources to get Shiro free.  Not without getting himself killed, probably, or at least having all his freedom lost.  But he could.

If Shiro thought about it too much, he'd break further.  Something of him would be damaged beyond repair.

Instead of that, Shiro wanted to forget.  He wanted to not think about the arena or the taunting possibility of home or how much he hurt.  Shiro had spent months fruitlessly searching for an escape, only to find it and have it ripped back away.

Soon, Shiro would go back to trying.  He'd never fully give up.

But just for this little while, he couldn't.  Shiro didn't have the energy, didn't have the hope, didn't have the heart.  

Just for now, Shiro wanted to live in this moment, where Lotor was here and giving Shiro something else to think about.  The only pleasant thing in his life, small and poisoned as it was.

He needed this.  For just this moment, Shiro was going to be a little selfish.

There was a long pause, then Lotor sighed.  "I understand."  He reached up and ran his fingers through Shiro's bangs, pushing the dark strands back and running the tips of his claws against the scalp.  "You wish for this?"

"I do," Shiro agreed, voice rough.  "Please, Prince."

With a nod, Lotor leaned in.  There was a slight hesitation to the next kiss, a pause that spoke of something like reluctance.  But after a moment it was gone, and Lotor's tongue slipped into Shiro's mouth.  After a few moments of exploring, Lotor picked Shiro up and moved him, so he was laying out over the boxes below them.  

Smiling at him, Shiro spread his legs, letting Lotor settle more easily between them.  "Don't worry about the bruises," he said.  "They're not that bad."

Lotor's eyes flashed, too quickly for Shiro to really identify the emotion.  Then he nodded.  "I will be gentle."

"You don't need to."

This time, the gaze hardened.  "I wish to be."  His hands smoothed up and down Shiro's sides.  "I wish to make you feel good."

Slowly, Shiro relaxed back and closed his eyes.  "I will," he replied.  The claws ran over his skin, too light to do damage but enough to tickle.  He squirmed, toes curling.  "I want to be distracted.  Please?"

In response, Lotor leaned in to kiss him.  He dragged his fingers down to Shiro's side and started to massage his thighs.  "I'll try."  There was an implied 'I'm sorry' in the words.

Shiro pulled him down for a deeper kiss to make him stop talking.  The long white strands of hair tangled in his fingers, like they were trying to hold on just as much as Shiro was.

As Lotor's grip moved to his ass, Shiro willingly gave himself over to the pleasure and heat between them.

***

Shiro sat up in bed, sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead.  Heat rolled through him, and his lips ached with the memory of warm contact.

He'd known that his and Lotor's relationship had gotten sexual.  But that knowledge was very different from remembering.  

It was also very different to feel churning arousal in his stomach and to know it was because of Lotor.  Not the Prince who had saved him, but the villain who had tried to kill his team.  Not the prisoner that was just a few hallways down, hopefully asleep.

Groaning, he curled in on himself and pulled his blankets around his shoulders.  He took deep, gulping breaths of the cool castle air, willing the flush off his cheeks and for his body to calm down.  It was a fight.  Lotor was the only one who had touched him like a lover since well before the Kerberos launch.  Since then, Shiro had only felt his own hand - left, since he was never quite comfortable using his metal hand on something so delicate.  The memory, cut short before the finish, awoke something in Shiro.

A hunger.  A need.  A chill that his blanket couldn't warm away.

But time and concentration won out.  Bit by bit, Shiro was able to focus again.

It was over.  That was a year gone, and it might as well have never happened.  Lotor thought Shiro didn't remember, and it was going to stay that way.  It was gone.  No reason for Lotor to talk about it, no reason for Shiro to think about it, no reason for anyone to ever know.  

Shiro just needed to get over himself.

Step one: he needed a shower.

Step two-

Well, Shiro was working on that.  

Kicking off his blanket, Shiro stepped out of his room and into the dimly lit hall.  The pale metal and dim lights made it easy to navigate the halls, and served as a constant reminder of where he was.  This was the Castle of Lions.  Shiro was a paladin, now.  He'd survived the arena, and he'd made it back home with help other than Lotor.  Maybe Shiro hadn't stayed there long, but he'd gotten there.

Shiro was so lost in thought he didn't notice a door open until he nearly ran into someone.

"Woah, there!"  Matt stepped back, barely keeping his grip on a stack of books.  "Going somewhere in a hurry?  You nearly mowed me down, there."

For a moment, all Shiro could do was blink back at Matt.  It felt like he was still in the dream, or maybe still sitting on his bed and imagining this meeting.  But finally he was able to pull the pieces of himself together enough to talk.  "Sorry," he replied, not quite managing to sound normal.  "I was distracted."

"Seems like it."  Looking him over, Matt frowned.  No wonder, because Shiro was probably a huge mess right now.  "You alright?" He asked.  "You look a little... pale.  Don't tell me Lance's stories about the castle being haunted are true."

Despite everything, that drew a smile out of Shiro.  It was small and shaky, but there.

When had Lance and Matt started to talk?  There were only so many people on the ship, and Lance talked to  _ everyone, _ so it wasn't exactly a surprise.  But still.  Shiro had totally missed that happening.

It occurred to Shiro that he'd been preoccupied, lately.  Absorbed by everything happening to his head, and afraid everyone would look at him and see what was wrong.

But interacting with only Lotor, with brief breaks for Allura, Coran and Keith, was probably part of why the memories were coming so fast and often.  He was creating a pale version of his previous isolation.

Realizing Matt had been waiting for a reaction for several seconds now, Shiro shook his head.  "It's not that.  Besides, the castle was never haunted.  We just uploaded a Galra general's memories into the computer to try and get information out of him, and he corrupted the systems."

Matt's brows rose.  "Just.  Just, he says.  Alright.  I think space has warped your perceptions a little."

"Probably," Shiro replied, shrugging one shoulder.  Another thought hit him and he glanced around.  "What are you doing up?"

"Because time is a lie and science waits for no man," Matt said, head held high.

Shiro stared at him flatly.  "And sleep?  What about sleep?"

Tilting his head, Matt squinted at him.  "Sl-eep?  Did you make that word up?  That sounds made-up.  Besides, I could ask you the same question."  He paused, then belated added, "Sir."

"Oh, stop it with that," Shiro muttered.  "What even brought that on?"

Matt shrugged, shifting his pile into one arm so he could gesture helplessly.  "You're the leader of the whole of Voltron.  The others treat you as a commander.  And you always cared about that stuff.  Considering you saved my life, the least I could do was call you by the right title, right?"

Blinking, Shiro rocked on his heels.  "Huh.  Well, for the record, it's super weird.  You can stop it."

"Thank god," Matt breathed, putting a dramatic hand over his chest.  "I'm free of these shackles.  I can breathe again."

Shiro rolled his eyes, even as his lips quirked up at the corners.  

Despite everything, Matt Holt was still Matt Holt. 

"Speaking of life saving," Matt said, bouncing slightly in place, like he had too much nervous energy.  "This is probably a bad time, right?  It's kind of awkward to bring up over dinner, and then I waited like three weeks and it was just weird, but- the way you were charging around, I'm guessing you need to use the bathroom.  Don't let me hold you up, but we should talk about this eventually."

That was... so many words said very fast.  Shiro wasn't quite awake enough for this.

"I was just going to take a shower," he admitted, despite the fact that Matt neither needed to know nor cared about what Shiro was doing in the bathroom at 0300 standard castle time.  "But if you need to talk- okay, seriously, why are you awake?"

Matt stared at him, expression going serious.  "I presume for the same reasons you are."

Chest going cold, Shiro swallowed hard.  "I sincerely hope not."

The admission made Matt falter.  He looked Shiro over, then glanced down the hall toward where the other paladins slept.  "I meant nightmares," he admitted.  "But.. are you okay?"

"Fine."

Matt's lips pressed thin.  "I'm not going back to bed.  I'm not a paladin, and all I have to do tomorrow is meet the other rebels and make a report.  If you're up for the night, might as well pass it together."

Normally, Shiro wouldn't agree to that.  Not when he was so rattled.  

But his dreams were waiting in the dark of his room, lurking like a monster under his bed, waiting until he drifted off to strike.

"Alright," he replied.  "Pidge's movies are loaded into the rec room console.  We can pick one and put it on.  No talking required, really."

Matt met his gaze dead on.  "I think there should be."

Ah, boy.  Shiro inclined his head and bit back a sigh.  "Maybe.  Shower first."

"Gives me a chance to put these up.  I'll meet you there."  With that, Matt headed down the halls, head held high.

Well, if there was one thing Matt's jokes and chatter were good for, it was passing the time.  Much as Shiro would rather not discuss the arena at all, better to get this all out of the way stop being awkward with Matt.

***

On screen, the ridiculous CGI shark roared and began to make it's awkward, green screened way toward the beach.  Shiro watched dispassionately as the camera cut back to the teens, who had gone from flirting to heavy petting.  "This is silly."

"It's comedy gold," Matt replied.  "And it was a good midpoint between kiddie movies and something serious.  I don't want to talk about this to an animated musical."

Probably wise.  Shiro dragged his eyes away just as the actress shrieked and sank under water.  "I'm not sure what there is to talk about," he admitted.

Matt opened his mouth, then paused.  Looked away.  "Oh."

Clearly that had been the wrong thing to say.  Shiro's brow furrowed as he looked Matt over.  "I mean, it happened, and I'm glad you're doing okay.  I wish we got it right and you were sent with your dad, but there's not really helping that.  It's great that you were able to get out, and that you found a place to be safe.  To fight."

"Yeah.  I'm glad you're okay too.  Amazed, but glad.  I honestly had no idea."  Matt shook his head, then watched Shiro from the corner of his eyes.  "But that's really it, for you?  I don't know why I'm surprised."

Shiro straightened, his brow furrowed.  "I'm not sure what you're expecting of me, here."

"Me either.  A reaction at all?  It's just weird.  It wasn't a big deal to you, was it?"

Ice formed in Shiro's stomach.  "Depends on what you mean.  It was a big deal.  It was the start of... everything."  Not just of the arena, but of Voltron.  Lotor, too.  Being captured had been the real start, maybe, but that first arena fight had been when Shiro first saw the shape of it.  Before then, he had no idea what was going to happen to him.  It was the answer.   _ You will fight to the death. _  Over and over and over.

Finally, Matt seemed to relax.  He nodded hard, his bangs swaying into his face.  "Exactly!   That's what I mean.  That moment, when you attacked, when it hit me what you'd done- it was everything."  Matt paused, then barked out a laugh.  "But you're right.  I guess I don't really know what to say.  'Thank you' is for birthday presents and being helped up when you trip.  It's not really for when your friend  sacrifices himself to the arena and saves me."

"I'll take a thank you.  But there's not really anything else you need to say or do."  Shiro shrugged, the gesture small and helpless.  "I'm not demanding payment, or praise, or anything like that.  I don't want it."

Matt let out another quiet, breathy bark of laughter.  "Yeah, well, I want to give it.  I should have died that day, Shiro.  Every one of those prisoners we were with should have.  It was supposed to be a slaughter."  He closed his eyes, shivering.

Shiro did too.  He hadn't meant to save everyone, not really.  Hadn't known what he was doing.  All he knew was he wanted to get Matt away.  And acting like a bloodthirsty animal, attacking the next in line and demanding to replace him, had been the first thing to come to mind.

Since then, Shiro had become acquainted with heroics.  He tried to be one now, tried to be someone worthy of his title and reputation.  But in that moment, Shiro didn't see a hero.  

But from the near feverish look in Matt's eyes, he did.  It had been important to him.

Shiro wasn't going to take that away from him.

"I can accept some things, if you need me to," Shiro offered.  "But at the end of the day, it's the past.  I'm glad I helped you.  I'm sorry I hurt you.  But if there's not much we can say or do about it, that's fine.  It happened a long time ago, now."

Lips pressed thin, Matt let his head thump back on the couch.  "That's really unsatisfying," he admitted.  "You know what I would have wanted, if I'd known you were out there?  I would have wanted to return the favor.  To find you in a situation and needing a hand, and for me to... I dunno, hit those problems in the face."  He mimed whipping his staff around, like he was bashing invisible opponents from the comfort of the couch.  "I want us to be even.  We're not."

Shiro shrugged.  "I don't know what to do about that, sorry.  I don't feel like we're uneven.  You went on to help kick the Galra's ass from the rebellion.  You have a bounty on your head.  Whatever that's from?  That's pretty even to me."

That earned him a surprisingly grumpy whine.  "Yeah, but you did that too.  Better, even.  The Black Paladin of Voltron.  What the hell, Shirogane?  You damn overachiever."

Startled by the familiar complaint, Shiro barked out a laugh.  "I'm so sorry," he drawled back.  "How about this?  You punch me in the face hard enough to get me a day off to recover.  That sounds about even."

"It took me a week to put all my weight back on my leg, and a year for you to get out of captivity.  That' s not even."  Matt closed one eye, like he was sizing Shiro up.  "The pot shot I'll give you spilling water in my caffeine pills before we even got to Mars."

Shiro grabbed a pillow and held it up between them, letting his smile grow.  "C'mon, I apologized for that.  And you should have quit coffee before the mission.  You knew supplies would be limited."

In response, Matt stuck out his tongue and punched the pillow.  It was nearly strong enough to rip it from Shiro's hands - he really had bulked up.  It wasn't a surprise, but Shiro still had trouble  _ understanding _ it.  "Easy for you to say.  Either way, I'll punch you, but it's not even.  We'll figure out an exchange, but I can't let this lie.  You know I can't."

"Stubborn."  Like Matt's dog had been with a squeaky toy.  Baebae had a grip of steel, and it had been a constant struggle to get him to let go for fetch.

That was a minefield of a comparison, though, so Shiro kept it to himself.

Finally, he shrugged and put the pillow down.  "Fine.  We'll figure out a way for you to help.  I'm guessing that you won't accept 'help us with this rift nonsense that Lotor keeps talking about'."

Matt snorted. "I already agreed to do that, and it's more of a universe thing.  Since it's the fate of the universe and all.  I keep my stuff in this universe, I can't let some weird rift monster come out and eat it all."  He paused, head cocked to the side.  "Space is weird, Shiro."

"That it is."  Shiro dropped the pillow in his lap, glancing at the projected screen.  A corny scientist in a long white lab coat and thick glasses held up several vials of colored, smoking liquids.  He was babbling rapid fire about shark pheromones and behavior patterns.  "This is pretty good too.  For help."

Brows up, Matt nodded to the movie.  "Watching bad monster movies?  I mean, the acting in this movie is pretty close to as torturous as Galra captivity, true."

Shiro snorted.  "Exactly.  You have to suffer with me."

There was a long pause.  When Shiro finally looked over, Matt's smile had fallen away.  "I could help," he offered quietly.  "For real.  Not just corny movies, but...  You have your team, and you have your command.  Do you talk to anyone, Shiro?"

"Yes?"  Shiro stared at him, brow furrowed.  "All day.  Lots of groups.  My job involves a lot of talking.  I know I'm not on par with your words per minute, but I'm not particularly quiet."

Matt shook his head.  "Not words.  Talking.  There's so much bad out there.  So much we've both survived.  Have you told anyone about it?"

"When it comes up," Shiro replied.  His stomach iced over again, and no amount of swallowing made it better.  "We fought Myzax again, once.  As one of Haggar's experiments."

A shudder wracked through Matt.  "You killed him?"

"The second time."

"Good."

The silence hung again.  Matt took a deep breath, then focused on Shiro.  "That's not the same thing.  I know- look.  I really know it sucks, to tell people about things.  I'm not saying I'm some therapist with a couch.  But I can say it's easier, sometimes, when you have someone with an outside perspective.  Someone to tell you if you're being clear-headed or not.  Not in a bad way, not that I'm saying you're making bad choices, but just..."

Shiro's jaw set.  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

But Matt's eyes were far too sharp and direct.  "You've never felt like you were broken?  Like you're a mess and a problem for everyone else?  Like a burden or a wound?"

Stomach sinking, Shiro leaned back, as if he could avoid Matt's words through distance.  "I-"

"I've had people I can talk to," Matt continued, barreling through.  "People who get how to feels to come out on the other side of something terrible.  What it means to lose someone."  His eyelids closed tight, then snapped back open.  "Having a second opinion helps.  Someone to tell you when you're not being rational.  It's kept me from doing very stupid things, before."

The ice crept further through Shiro's veins.  "What kind of stupid things?"

"I have a bounty for a reason."  Matt's lips pulled back, like he was baring his teeth and smiling at the same time.  "I've done things no one would be proud of, because I could hurt the Galra and myself at the same time.  Because being angry, fighting back, was worse than feeling like a prisoner still."

Like how Lotor's hands on him felt better than being alone in a cell, or fighting an enemy.

"You don't- why are you telling me this?"

Matt's eyes burned as he leaned forward.  "I told you.  I can help.  I had people to show me better paths.  I owe you, Shiro, and no amount of placation of joking can make that go away.  If I can use what I learned by getting free to help you?  That's even."

Breath catching, Shiro shook his head.  It wasn't an answer so much as pure denial.  "I can't-"

Hadn't Shiro just been thinking he was in over his head?

Hadn't Matt seen him low already, as a vicious, snarling attacker eager for the arena?

At a better hour, in a better situation, Shiro would say no.  He'd defend his privacy, defend his image, push back against this idea Matt had.

But right now it was too raw.  Shiro could still feel the remembered bruises, taste the wine on Lotor's tongue.  It was too real, too close, too hypersensitive.

"I think we're different," he finally replied.  His legs curled up to his chest like he was protecting against a cold.  "I think you didn't do anything wrong.  You didn't deserve punishment."

Matt reached out, then stopped himself.  For which Shiro was so glad.  His body was caught between heat and chill, desire and revulsion, need and grief.  He had no idea what he'd do if he felt someone's hands on him.

"For the arena?" Matt asked.  "I understand.  Better than most.  I know what it was like out there, and you never had a choice."

Eyes slamming shut, Shiro curled in further on himself.  "I-"

The words didn't come.  They jammed in his chest like a train wreck, like a blood clot, like a wound.  His heart rate spiked, rabbit-quick at the very idea of telling someone about Lotor.  About what Shiro had done.  About  _ who _ he'd done.

How did he say 'I let Lotor fuck me because he fed me'?

"Hey," Matt murmured, voice suddenly smaller.  "I- look.  You don't..."  He pulled back, dismay bright in his eyes.  "I wanted to help.  I wasn't trying to hurt you.  You don't have to say anything right now.  This is supposed to repay you, don't do it if it'll make it worse.  We can watch the movie, okay?  They're about to use a sonic harpoon gun to try and fight it from an old pirate ship, it's ridiculous.  We can just watch that."

Idly, Shiro wondered where the Holt siblings had gotten their tendency to ramble from.  The thought floated in, as if separate from the rest of him.  Like part of his mind was simply watching himself crack.

"Shiro?"  Panic started to taint Matt's voice.  He scooted closer, hands back and up, still not touching.  He'd always been smart.  "I'm sorry.  What do I do?"

"I'm okay," Shiro choked out.  His hands slid through his hair, fisting strands hard enough to hurt.  It had to make him look demented, but it was also physical.  Real.  Present.  "Not now, okay?  I see your point.  Just not now."

Matt's head bobbed, immediately eager.  "Sure, yeah.  Not right now.  I- when you can.  It's to help."  The word was just a little desperate, a little wild.  "I want to  _ help. _  I don't want you to hurt again for my benefit.  Please don't."

Shiro took a deep, ragged breath.  His chest ached, like someone had punched the lungs out of him. "I know.  But- you're right, Matt.  There's things I need help with.  Just not right now.  Remind me in the morning."

"I will," Matt replied.  "I mean, before I head out again.  Tomorrow I go back with my squad, remember?"

Right.  Shrio knew that.  Matt was back and forth constantly.  He'd go, transfer sensitive documents, organize the rebels, get updates and information, head back.  Rinse, repeat.  He'd be back in half a week, probably.  Less, maybe.

That was long enough for Shiro to figure out how to explain this in anything but the bluntest, crudest terms.

He could do that.

"Yeah," Shiro replied.  "Okay.  After."

"Movie for now?  I can rewind it a bit, I think we missed some."

Bobbing his head, Shiro didn't manage a smile, but he did loosen somewhat.  "Yeah.  Movie is good."

Matt's hand came up, hovering again.  "Do you need- can I touch you?"

Stomach rolling, Shiro shook his head.  "Please don't.  Not right now.  It's close."

"Yeah, I get it."  

Shiro hoped not.

But Matt only moved closer, then put a pillow against Shiro's side.  Then he leaned against that.  There was no contact, no heat, but a pressure.  A presence.  "How about this?"

"That-"  Shiro swallowed, then nodded.  "That's good.  This works.  Thank you."

"No problem."  Matt picked up the pad to start rewinding the movie.  "And, hey, Shiro?"

"Mmm?"

Looking over, Matt managed a smile.  "I'm on your side.  You'd have to do a hell of a lot to shake me.  I owe you that much."

Shiro glanced over, prepared to smile and wave off the words.  But there was a light in Matt's eyes, not quite a fever.  

He was stubborn, after all.

Slowly, some of the tension bled from Shiro's shoulders.

"Thank you."

Matt just nodded and settled in, eyes on the movie.

Would Matt's loyalty last when he knew how low Shiro had sunk?

Maybe it would.  Shiro didn't know what he'd done for the rebels.  They only had scraps of information, and Matt had never said.  It sounded like he'd done things he wasn't proud of.

It was wrong, to feel relieved at that.  Shiro should feel upset that Matt had felt the need to do that, angry at the circumstances.

But Shiro wasn't alone.  Someone else might really understand.  

It was comforting, to not be alone in the dark.

For the first time in too long, Shiro let himself lean on someone else.

 


	5. Chapter 5

In the light of day, Shiro's resolve evaporated like early morning mist.

He and Matt didn't move from the couch for the rest of the night.  For the most part, they didn't speak.  The pressure of an arm against his, muffled through the thick pillow, was enough.  Shiro - well, he didn't relax.  He didn't know if he remembered what relaxed felt like.  But it was better than waking up to more dreams.  More memories.

When they did speak, it was about the movie.  Shiro found out it was called 'Blood in the Water', because of course it was, and that it had a sequel ('Blood in the Water II - Second Vein').  It was, astonishingly, even more ridiculous than the first, mostly because of the far lower budget.

All in all, it wasn’t the worst way Shiro's wasted several hours.  It reminded him of a time before, when he and Matt would squeeze into one bunk with Matt's ridiculously overly large laptop resting on both their thighs.  They'd watched TV, mostly, because it had felt like being normal.  The Kerberos mission had been a long one, and those little breaks had helped them through.

At least, it had helped Shiro.  He hoped it had helped Matt.

Inevitably, the lights of the castle started to brighten.  It was a slow shift, gentle, but unstoppable.  The day cycle.

The second movie ended, with the previously exploded shark inexplicably CGI swimming into the sea.  There's even a 'To be continued' title card.  Shiro wasn't sure if he was delighted or appalled at the sheer ridiculousness.

"I need to go soon," Matt finally said, turning off the movie.  "You, uh... you good?  I can probably delay heading out a couple hours if you want.  There's a third one, and Pidge has some by the same director."

Shiro shook his head and scrubbed over his eyes.  They itched, but sleep deprivation was an old friend by now.  "I- no.  You shouldn't delay.  I'm fine."

Without the glasses, Matt's gaze felt so much more direct.  Or maybe Matt himself was just more intense.  It was hard to say.  "Alright," he said.  "When I come back, okay?  We can talk then."

It was almost pity, the way Shiro was being left off the hook.  It should have annoyed him, but he could only be relieved.  That was three days longer where he didn't have to talk.  "Yeah.  When you get back."  He didn't promise, because Shiro had a feeling he'd end up breaking it.

Matt's lips pressed thin, but he nodded.  "Alright.  Yeah.  Try to take it easy today."

The request was so  _ absurd _ that Shiro laughed.  Loudly.

"Yeah, fair point.  At least don't pile more on your plate than you need."  Matt grabbed one of the pillows and smacked Shiro on the chest with it.  The impact was so slight Shiro barely felt it.  

It was another silly thing to ask, but Matt's face was so damn  _ earnest. _  So Shiro sighed and nodded.  "Okay.  I'll try.  No promises."

Matt nodded back.  "Good enough.  I'm going to go get my stuff and say goodbye to Pidge."

Which meant he'd be gone in under an hour.  Shiro nodded.  "Stay safe."

"I'll try," Matt replied, in the exact same tone Shiro had used.  Before Shiro could scold him, he offered a flash of a smile and ducked out through the door.

Damn fast bastard.

Shiro blinked at the far wall, where the projected screen had floated, and let out a long, heavy sigh.

Three days, if he couldn't figure out a way out of it.

Three days before he had to tell someone about Lotor.

Dread formed like ice inside of Shiro's chest, filling him with nervous energy.

Shiro took a deep breath and went to find something to use it on.

***

Later that day, Shiro found himself in Pidge and Hunk's shared lab.  It wasn't his usual haunt.  While he could do basic engine and plane maintenance, he'd never been particularly drawn to the engineering route.  Not when the skies called to him.  Not when he so desperately wanted to turn to the stars and just  _ go. _

But Shiro had been isolating himself, recently.  It had been on purpose, paranoid that someone would be able to read the memories from behind his eyes.  But that was ridiculous.  Shiro knew it was ridiculous.  And it was also a terrible reason to let the team fall to the wayside.  

Which lead him to asking if Pidge and Hunk needed a hand with anything.

Which they had taken far more literally than he'd imagined.

Shiro held the engine up in one hand, holding onto a strip of metal on top like it was a very strange handbag.  Pidge sprawled out on the ground, reaching up into a gap in the bottom.  Her arm went in to the elbows, and he could see grease dripping down her bicep and onto her chest.

"Just a few more minutes," Pidge told him, distracted and breathless.  "This is way better than hooking it up to the crane, thank you!"

"You're welcome," Shiro replied, bone dry.  "Is it supposed to look like you're trying to make the engine give birth?"

Hunk let out a burst of laughter, ignoring Pidge's disgusted noise.  "More like Dr. Frankenstein trying to piece his monster together from corpses.  But maybe we should get those long gloves they use for when barn animals are pregnant.  It might help you from ruining your clothes."

"What?"  Pidge glanced down her arm, and seemed to notice the mess she was making for the first time.  "Oh.  Whoops.  Or I could just use a towel."

Smile growing, Hunk handed down some little device to Pidge, who pulled her arm out to grab it then jammed it back up inside.  "Yeah, that'd also work.  But I was thinking that I could mention to Lance that cows only lactate when they're pregnant or have calves.  Then we start wearing the gloves around him..."  He trailed off meaningfully, his eyes bright with mischief.

Shiro let out a bark of laughter, so sudden and hard he nearly dropped the engine.  Both Pidge and Hunk jolted forward to brace it, but he didn't lose his grip.  "That's mean," he told Hunk.  "He'll get so excited about a baby, you know he will."

Inclining his head, Hunk nodded.  "Yeah, but his face when he thinks we're helping Kaltenecker give birth would be hilarious."

"Why does our cow produce milk?"  Pidge finally asked.  "Is there another Earth cow around?  Should we be going back to the mall?"

Hunk shook his head.  "No, I had Coran bring the scanner.  There's a little implant that gives the right hormones or enzymes or whatever it is.  Kaltenecker's body is just producing it without pregnancy, at the moment.  Which is good.  I don't want to think about a poor baby calf out in the whole of space somewhere."

"Agreed," Shiro replied.  "I'm glad you thought of it.  I wouldn't have.  I thought cows just... made milk."

"All the time?"

Shiro shrugged.  "Kaltenecker is the first I've been this close to.  Only on TV or the side of the road."  He paused.  "I didn't realize how big cows were."

Head tilted, Hunk considered him.  "Huh.  I mean, that makes sense.  I don't remember how I know.  Probably read it somewhere."

"I used to go to summer camps for different things," Pidge offered.  She pulled her hand back out again and groped for a towel until Hunk dropped it in her lap.  Then she started to wipe up some of the dripping grease.  "One year we went to a day camp at a farm - me and Matt.  They had us learn to ride horses and take care of different animals.  He liked it more than me.  Pollen and sunshine, eugh.  The animals were pretty cool, though.  I liked the pigs."

Shiro considered her, lips curling up.  "I'm going to admit, I'm imagining you with pigtail braids and overalls, now."  He gave the engine a little shake.  "Can I put this down, now?"

"Oh, yeah, go ahead and put it back on the table."  Pidge moped up as much of the oil as she could, then balled up the rag and tossed it overhand toward a little basket.  It went in, and Hunk automatically offered his hand in a high five, nevermind that his palm calm away shaded black.  "You're not far off, either.  A ponytail, not braids, part of the dress code was sturdy clothes and boots.  Mine had sunflowers."

Hunk's face tensed, like he was trying not to coo.   "I see."

Pidge snorted and flapped a hand.  "I was a cute kid, I admit it.  Maybe someday you'll see pictures."

"Maybe?"  Shiro leaned against the counter, expression falling.  "I don't want to hear that.  There'll be plenty of chances to see them back on Earth someday."

Brows up, Pidge considered him, then sighed.  "Maybe as in 'I'm not sure I want to deal with the teasing', Shiro."

Oh.

"That's fine.  Sorry."  Shiro ran a hand through his bangs, sighing.  "I just don't want you guys thinking that way.  You're going to get home."

Hunk glanced over him, then rolled his shoulders and started to put away his tools.  When he spoke, it was without looking over.  "We try to keep positive about Earth, usually.  You do a good job on that front.  Try not to worry so much, alright?  I know that's hypocritical, but..."

Another bark of laughter burst out of Shiro, mostly from surprise.  "Not really.  You'd know better than most, I think."  He offered Hunk a soft smile, who returned it.  "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring down the mood."

"It's fine," Pidge said.  She watched him carefully, glasses half-catching the light and hiding just one eye.  "It's nice to see you talking at all.  You've been quiet."

Yeah.  He had been.

Shiro took a deep breath, then shrugged.  The promise to Matt had taken so much of him, and even just imagining what would happen when he found out made Shiro's stomach freeze over.  "It's been a long couple of weeks."

"It has," Hunk said, eyes soft as he looked Shiro over.  "How's everything with Lotor?"

Shiro's heart froze.  It felt like slush was pushing through his veins, stilling him completely.

For a moment, he looked into Hunk's sympathetic gaze and was sure he knew.

Except- no.  He meant watching Lotor.  Guard duty.  That was all.

"As well as can be expected," Shiro replied, voice carefully neutral.  "He's still on his best behavior.  I've been preoccupied with him and everything with the coalition, yes.  I'm sorry I haven't made as much time for you all."

Pidge pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, legs sprawled out in front of her.  "In what time?  You've been busy, Shiro, we get it.  With everything going on, of course you don't have a lot of time to keep up with us.  Especially since we haven't been doing so much training, recently."

"I'm not complaining about that part," Hunk said, lips curled up at the corner.  "It's been a nice break, and it's good to know that the rebels and the Blade can respond to a lot of the distress signals now.  It's better than it always being just us.  It's just been quieter at dinner, you know?  Even with Matt."

"Especially when he's gone."  Pidge ran her fingers through her bangs, pushing them out of her eyes.  They stayed standing up from a mixture of sweat and frizz.  "You've been distracted, Keith was quiet for a while, Lance is calmer, Allura spends so much time keeping track of all the new allies..."

Shiro winced and sighed.  "She shouldn't have to do that."

"Oh, you're going to take up her duties, on top of coordinating the coalition, flying the Black Lion, and babysitting Lotor?"  Pidge crossed her arms and stared him down.  "Good luck with that.  We'll drag you to bed when you collapse."

Irritation churned through Shiro like bubbling, molten rock.  It had been weeks since he'd had a good night's sleep without more memories, now, so he couldn't quite keep his mouth shut.  "Then what are you getting at?"

Pidge groaned.  "I'm not getting at anything!  We're worried about you guys.  Things are  _ weird _ now."

Nodding, Hunk sat down as well, then gestured to another one for Shiro, who pretended not to notice the gesture.  "We're worried, is all.  About everyone.  Things have changed since that last battle.  We have Lotor here, and we have to worry about that and his weird plans, and what he might do.  Now we're doing more organizing and building and talking, rather than just fighting.  It's better.  There's so many more of us and we've won a lot.  But it's also way more complicated, and it falls more on you and Allura and Keith than the rest of us."

Shiro took a breath, and forced himself to let it go slowly.  There wasn't a criticism, here.  Even if there was, it came from a place of love and concern, not to further complicate Shiro's life.

They were right.  Things had changed. 

More than they knew.

Shiro finally sat down heavily and nodded.  "What do you suggest?" He finally asked, glancing between them both.  Part of him wanted to reassure them and walk away, to figure out the best course of action himself.  To pretend strength and knowledge like he always had.

But he'd been vulnerable once already last night, and this was so much easier.  Shiro didn't have the time or energy to figure out the problems on the team all alone.  Not when he'd been so lost in his own head.

Pidge glanced at Hunk and shrugged.  "I mean, this isn't really a 'do better' thing.  More 'do you want us to do something more', I guess?  'Where can we start?'"

"Or maybe just talk to us?"  Hunk winced and tapped his fingers against the table.  "Yeah, this is an offer, not a demand.  We're not trying to tell you you're wrong, just that we're a team."

They wanted to help.

Shiro hated it, but he needed to let them.  It was time to admit he couldn't do everything.

"I can do talking," he said, scrubbing over his face.  The mechanics of his right arm whirred audibly in the quiet lab.  "Allura told you both about Lotor's rift plan?"

Eyes sharp, Pidge nodded.  "Yeah, the bare bones.  She got him to give access to that ship of his, and we looked over his data from it."  She nodded to his arm.  "It's been a while since we cleaned that out."

Shiro paused, and furrowed his brows at her in surprise.  It took him a moment to switch gears from ‘Lotor and the rift’ to ‘mundane arm cleaning.’   "Yes?  I can manage a lot on my own.  Did I miss something?"  He turned it over, trying to see the opposite side.

"Nah, it looks fine.  But you should do a deeper cleaning once in a while anyway.  And it's something to do while we sit here and talk."

Hunk perked, hands clenching on the table.  Likely, he'd enjoy having something to fiddle with during an otherwise stressful conversation.  "If you're comfortable with that."

Shiro hesitated, his left palm covering part of the metal bicep.  Touch still seemed daunting, though less terrifying than it had been last night.  The memory of Lotor's hands on him, rubbing him down and then preparing him for more, was so close.

But this was Hunk and Pidge, who had offered this plenty of times before.  Who were the ones he trusted to stick wires and tools and all that stuff inside his arm and keep it running properly.

They wanted to help, and Shiro needed it.

He just had to accept it.

So finally Shiro set it out in front of them.  "Can we change the lights to yellow, please?"

"Absolutely," Hunk agreed.  He pulled over a tech pad, and in moments the lab was bathed in bright, cherry yellow.  "That good, or should we go grab the pillows, too?"

Shaking his head, Shiro worked his fingers.  "No, that's enough."  Besides, he didn't want to sit around and second guess his choice, or let his nerves really sink back in.

Pidge scooted in closer to Hunk, so they could both work together, then dragged over a tool set.  In moments, she had the front hatch of his arm popped off.  "I looked over as much of the rift data as I could, and compared it to when we went through, and what Coran scanned from the castle."

"It's weird," Hunk said, pulling over a bristled stick, like a larger mascara brush.  "His data is definitely missing some element. When he made contact, it fizzled out.  The pure quintessence he used was kind of close to what he needed, but not quite it."

"Which is probably why he didn't blow up his ship," Pidge added.  "Or maybe he just made the artificial rift portal shut down when it didn't work.  One or the other.  He's definitely alive, and that much energy... it's nothing to play around with."

Shiro nodded back.  "Allura says the difference is the lions.  Their consciousness.  They chose their forms, so they're more... complete than Lotor's ship, since it was just machined the way he wanted."

Nose crinkled, Pidge eyed him.  "You know, I get that the lions are magic.  I get that Allura is magic.  But that's still a really unsatisfying answer."

The delivery was so flat that Shiro barked out another laugh.  "I know exactly what you mean.  The lions are amazing, but it's hard to properly understand them.  They just are."

Bending down, Hunk worked his little brush inside Shiro's arm like a harsh duster.  A fine cloud of dirt escaped the bristles, showing exactly how long it had been since they'd gotten inside there.  Not since he'd returned from that ice planet, actually.  

"It's cool," Hunk agreed.  "But it makes it hard to give definitive answers.  We know we can for sure go through, and we know that the previous paladins went to that energy plane Lotor was talking about.  We just can't say how it works, or how to make it safer, or how to keep what happened to Zarkon from happening to us."

"Or how to stop anything that comes through," Shiro added grimly.

"That too.  Voltron took down the first one that came through, but..."  Pidge made a face as she dabbed a rag around the edges of the hatch, cleaning up the dust as it settled.  "It's all risky, yeah.  But do we have a better option?  Almost everything we do is risky.  Starting the coalition was risky.  Following your arm's coordinates was risky.  Trusting a strange group of Galra on their word and Keith's knife was risky."

Hunk sighed.  "That felt more like calculated risk, though.  We had at least an idea what we were getting into, and we knew we could get out or fight back if we needed to.  But if we unleash some cosmic horror on the universe and we can't stop it, that's that.  Or if we break Voltron with it, or any of the other awful things that could possibly happen."

It wasn't anything Shiro hadn't already thought of, but he still closed his eyes tight.  "Yeah.  You're both right.  I don't know how to evaluate this.  It's so far off even what we've adapted to so far, I don't know how to even begin a risk assessment.  Having that much raw energy would be amazing, but we don't have the time investment like Haggar does.  We can't build planet bombs out of it."

"We don't  _ want _ to build planet bombs," Pidge said.  "Ever.  But we also have the Olkari.  Whatever we need, Ryner and her people can get started manufacturing it.  It's just a matter of deciding.  And with that much energy... we might be able to build ships that can outfight Voltron, even without the transdimensional materials.  Anything's possible if you have enough juice and enough ideas."

Hunk paused, watching Shiro slyly through his bangs.  "And we have Slav, too."

Lips pressed thin, Shiro gave a reluctant nod.  "We do have that."  He couldn't manage to sound pleased.  But he sighed and shook his head, unable to keep up even that distant annoyance under the weight of the decision.  "Yeah.  I just- I don't know that I can make this call."

Pidge and Hunk shared a glance.  "What makes this one different?" Hunk asked carefully.  "We do all kinds of weird things, and you don't usually stall out like this."

Dammit.

Heart cold, Shiro's eyes darted between them both, no doubt making him look even more shady than his long pause.  Both of them watched him carefully.  Calculating.  Waiting.

They couldn't know.  They could  _ never _ know.

But maybe they didn't have to know specifics.

"I'm having trouble reading Lotor," Shiro finally replied, picking each word carefully.  "I think- I think I knew him.  From the gladiator ring.  I can't tell if I'm leaning one way or another because of something I don't remember or can't proper account for."

"Oh."  Pidge closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  "I'd kinda wondered, when the Blade of Marmora said he made that first announcement speech after fighting in the ring.  But you were gone and things were crazy and we kinda... forgot.  Or, I did."

Hunk put down the brush, and instead rested his hand over Shiro's bicep.  His palm was heavy and solid, a steadying warmth.  "Are you alright?"

Guilt churned through Shiro's stomach like the sea in a storm.  He had no right to soak up their support and concern, when he knew exactly what he'd done and how biased he was.  When he'd gone along with Lotor's every whim because he offered affection and food, like a dog in an ally.

But he couldn't tell them that.  Shiro couldn't have shaken off Hunk's hand if he'd wanted to.  Most of the touches in his recent memory were from memories, from Lotor, were bittersweet at best.

Shiro needed this, craved it like he'd craved Lotor's offered food.

"Yeah," he managed, failing to keep his voice properly level.  He cleared his throat.  "I think so.  It doesn't change anything.  Shouldn't.  But it makes it hard to trust my feelings when it comes to this.  I can't predict and mitigate my own biases."

"Can anyone?" Pidge asked, brows up.  "I mean, you can have an idea, but in reality?  You do good by us, Shiro.  Whatever conclusion you come to, we'll follow you."  She nudged his shoulder.  "You haven't lead us wrong so far."

Shiro snorted.  "You sure?  We did almost all get blown up by a planet death trap."

"Which would have gone off anyway, even if we'd gotten away earlier," Hunk said.  "And- for what it's worth?  Lotor's the one who saved us from that.  And Keith from his back-up plan."  

True.

Pidge snorted and nodded toward the hangars.  "Yeah, because if Voltron blew, so did his changes of getting into the rift."

Also true.

Dammit.  Why couldn't Lotor just do  _ something _ that solidified him on one side or the other?

Part of Shiro wanted to trust the man who had given him so much to live for, who had held him gently and kissed away his worries.

Part of Shiro wanted to spite the man who had chosen his ambitions over Shiro's freedom.

Did those pieces of him cancel out?  Did one outweigh the other?  Was it right to trust his decisions at all with Lotor, when he had such personal, emotional reasons either way?

"Okay, guns to your heads," Shiro finally said.  "I'm curious.  Yes or no from each of you.  No double thinking, no justifications, just how you feel."

"Yes," Pidge said.

Hunk shook his head.  "No."

Shiro should have predicted that.  It would have been nice if they both agreed.

Closing the hatch back up, Hunk gave him a rueful smile.  "How are Allura and Keith feeling?"

"There wasn't been direct yes or nos, really," Shiro said.  "Just thoughts.  But I think Keith is leaning towards, and Allura is leaning away."

Pidge let out a bark of laughter.  "Helpful.  And when Matt's here there's eight of us, now.  We can't even have a tiebreaker.  Flip a coin?"

Pulling his arm back into his lap, Shiro stared her down.  "You want me to decide the fate of the universe based on a coin toss?"

"No, but at least we won't be spinning our wheels."

Shiro shorted and shook his head, amused despite himself.  "I'll keep thinking about it.  But you're right, we can only wait so long.  Thank you both for listening."

Hunk smiled back as he started to put away his tools.  "Thanks for helping with the engine.  Seriously, Shiro, whatever call you make, we trust it.  We trust you."

"And if a dimension monster tries to come through, we punch it back to the void like the previous paladins.  They beat it when they were as green as we were on Arus.  Can't be that much harder than Myzax."  Pidge grinned.  "Maybe Allura can kick better than Lance can."

Shiro finally let out a laugh of his own.  "I can't tell if he'd love it or he'd hate it."

"Oh, Allura, you kick so dreamily," Hunk cried, voice falsetto as he fluttered his lashes.  "You're so pretty when you're a badass."

"To be fair, he's not wrong."  Shiro shook his head, still smiling.  Despite himself, something felt lighter in his chest, like they'd cleared the dust out of his heart as they'd cleaned his arm.  "Alright, I'm off.  Unless you have other heavy things you want me to hold?"

Pidge tapped her chin thoughtfully.  "I mean, if you really want to, I'm sure we can find something.  Not for us to work on, just to hold."

"Pass," Shiro said, rolling his eyes.  He waved goodbye with a final smile as they started to bend over their next project.

Even so, his shoulders relaxed and steps had more bounce.

This was why he had a team.  Even when he couldn't share all of his burden, they helped take the weight off.

***

"I have a request," Lotor said, head held high as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Shiro raised his brows, not bothering to move from where he was leaning against the wall.  "Most bathroom related requests I think I'll have to pass on."

That earned him a flat, unimpressed look.  "It has been several days since the last time you brought me to the training room," Lotor continued, as if Shiro hadn't replied.  "I wish for you to spar with me again."

A bitter, nasty part of Shiro wanted to snidely point out that Lotor never said 'please'.  But the word wasn't in the prince's general lexicon.  Likely, he would see it as a weakness instead of being polite.  "I suppose you wouldn't be satisfied with running laps this time."

Lotor's lips pulled down.  He looked Shiro over carefully, both like he was searching for something and like he was sizing Shiro up.  "If I must, I will make do," he said, slower now as he chose his words more carefully.  "But you did not seem displeased the last time we spared.  You even seemed jovial.  I did not think you objected to the practice."

That had been before Shiro had started to dream about them having sex.

But that wasn't a reason Shiro could admit to.  More than that, it wasn't a reason he wanted to change how he acted, even to Lotor.  Especially to Lotor.  So Shiro inclined his head.  "It was fine.  I just won't always have the time to stop my plans and spar with you."

Lotor's lips twitched, but he didn't say whatever was on his mind.  But Shiro could guess.

After all, Lotor had stopped his plans so Shiro could stretch his legs and spar with him.

But instead he gave a half-bow that was only slightly sarcastic.  "As you say, Black Paladin.  Do you have the time now?  If you do not, I could be watched by another."

"I have a little while," Shiro allowed.  "Enough for a few rounds."  He pushed off the wall.  "I just mean you shouldn't get used to it."

Lotor nodded, even as his eyes lit up with satisfaction.  "I will not.  In fact, I hope that soon I will be too busy working with you on the rift to allow for training room spars."

That remained to be seen.  But a lack of an answer would annoy Lotor more than a direct refutation, so Shiro just nodded for Lotor to start down the hall.  Shiro followed, half a step behind so he could watch Lotor's every move.

Immediately upon entering, Lotor turned to face Shiro, stepping backward lightly.  "No weapons again, I assume."  The question was flip, but there was a weight to Lotor's gaze.  If Shiro didn't know better, he would have thought it was guilt.  

For what?  Was Lotor planning something?  

Shiro narrowed his eyes.  "No weapons," he agreed.  

That earned him a sharp nod.  Then, without waiting further, Lotor launched himself bodily at Shiro.

Starting before a signal wasn't unexpected.  But being bum-rushed was.  Shiro nearly managed to duck out of the way, eyes wide.  This wasn't like Lotor's usual cautious, tricky style of fighting.  He didn't charge opponents like a bull, at least without knowing exactly what he was doing.

But before Shiro could figure out the plan, Lotor pivoted on one foot and moved again, this time arching around toward the side.  Shiro was ready this time.  He kicked out, going for Lotor's ankles as he ran, trying to send him crashing to the ground.

Lotor hoped over the kick, landing gracefully near flush with Shiro.  This close, Lotor lost the benefits of his reach, and was in danger of Shiro's robot arm.

What was he  _ doing? _

Before Shiro could regain his footing from the missed sweep, Lotor wrapped his arms around Shiro's chest.  He heaved up, pulling Shiro completely off his feet.  

Kicking down, Shiro caught Lotor in the thigh, but it wasn't a full powered blow.  It got him a grunt but nothing more.  Instead, Lotor through Shiro down to the floor.  He hit his side hard, grunting as he bounded with the force.

Shiro rolled, trying to get his eyes back on Lotor.  But he didn't need to.  Instead, Lotor followed him down, trying to grapple him to the mat.  He grabbed Shiro by the wrists, pushing them down on either side of his head.

There was an easy answer to this.  One flash of Shiro's prosthetic and Lotor would have to let go, and would be burned for his troubles.  

But Shiro didn't.  He was curious what Lotor was up to, for one.  This was so baffling that Shiro was willing to take a few hits to figure out what Lotor was thinking.

And-

And Shiro didn't want to hurt Lotor.  Not like that.

Lotor jammed his knee into Shiro's stomach.  It wasn't a hard blow, just enough to keep him still.  Shiro grunted, instinctively trying to curl in and protect himself.  While he was distracted, Lotor shifted up, so he was straddling Shiro's hips.  He leaned in, till his hair spilled between their chests.

Then Lotor stared down at him, gaze painfully intense.

Shiro waited a beat for Lotor to act, but he stayed in place.

Finally, Shiro grunted and brought his legs up.  It knocked Lotor's knee out of the way, which gave him a clear shot to double-kick Lotor in the stomach.

The air wheezed out of Lotor as he was physically lifted by the blow.  But rather than roll away, he crashed right back down on top of Shiro.  He hooked his long legs around Shiro's, using his greater weight to pin them against the mats.

The end result was Lotor laying near completely on top of Shiro, his not-insignificant weight holding him down from chest to feet.

Lotor shifted his hands up, until he could take both of Shiro's wrists in one hand.  The other grabbed onto Shiro's shoulder, squeezing but not punishingly so.

Just resting.

Just holding.

His gaze never moved from Shiro's face.

For the first time, Shiro met his eyes, rather than searched for a weakness or an explanation.

Desperation.  A plea.  It was the closest Shiro had never seen Lotor to begging.

Lotor let out his breath, their faces so close that Shiro could feel his hot breath against his jaw.

_ -could feel Lotor's breath against his lips as he panted from exertion.  Sweat stuck the long strands of white hair to his cheeks and neck as he moved, snapping his hips forward.  Shiro cried out, pleasure rushing through him and finally silencing the worries and pain in the back of his mind- _

Crying out, Shiro shoved Lotor to the side, pushing him off him completely.  His breaths came in fast, heavy bursts through his teeth.  "I thought you wanted to spar!"

"I do," Lotor replied, curling his legs under him as he made to stand.  "Grappling an opponent is a perfectly valid way to defeat them."

Shiro let out a dark growl, more animal than human.  He dug his fingers into the mat, as if the nails would turn to claws and anchor him to the fabric.  "Not with me.  If I had turned on my arm, I would have taken all the skin off your palm."

"Why didn't you?" Lotor asked, eyes bright.  But it wasn't triumph - it was that same eagerness as before.  "What stopped you?"

Baring his teeth, Shiro snorted.  "Having to take time out of my day to get you into a healing pod is why."

Lotor frowned, his lips pressed thin.  "Ah."

Slowly, Shiro stood.  He took several steps over to Lotor, arms locked at his side and fingers curled into tight fists.  "What did you think you were doing?"

There was no reply.  Instead, Lotor struck out like a snake, kicking Shiro's feet out from under him.  He tumbled to his back, but almost instantly rolled back around onto his stomach.  Then, rather than stand again, Shiro shoved off hard.  

He tackled Lotor in the chest, sending them both rolling across the floor.  Taking fistfulls of Lotor's shirt, Shiro dragged him up and then smacked him back down to the floor.  "What were you doing?"  He demanded, leaning right into Lotor's face.

Sneering, Lotor swung, his fist hitting Shiro's shoulder.  It wasn't enough to make him let go, but it did knock him off balance.  Lotor rolled with the momentum, shoving Shiro to the ground and coming out on top.  

But Shiro still had a grip on his shirt, so he used that to yank Lotor up and over his own head, trying to send him flying.  But Lotor reached out and grabbed hold of Shiro's hair, which stopped his momentum and made Shiro cry out in pain.

Two could play at that game.

Shiro took the biggest handful he could of Lotor's long hair and  _ yanked _ with all his might.

Howling, Lotor pressed one hand to his scalp.  With the other, he slashed his clawed hand down the side of Shiro's cheek.  They left painful red welts behind.

Flipping over, Shiro shoved forward so they were face to face again.  He got his metal arm between them and shoved it forward, so it laid across both of Lotor's shoulders.  It pinned him back down, both with the weight of the metal and his enhanced strength.  With the natural hand, he reeled back and punched down, catching Lotor on the side of the head.

Lotor’s head jolted, his hair flying everywhere and a red mark already appearing on that sharp cheekbone.

A rush of dark, nasty satisfaction started from Shiro's stomach, and he nearly grinned from it.

About time Lotor was the one to look like a fucking mess.

But shame followed after, turning his glee into ash.

Despite everything, Shiro wasn't the kind of person to enjoy violence.  To enjoy hurting.

At least, he hadn't been until now.

Lotor's hand raised up.  Shiro flinched back, both from his own churning emotions and fear of another strike.  But instead Lotor cupped Shiro's cheek.   The touch was gentle, barely a brush of skin, but still so warm.

"I probably deserve that," Lotor murmured, cracking a sickly looking smile.  "If not for this fight, then another."

He stared up at Shiro with that same pleading desperation.

Finally, Shiro pulled his arm back, so he wasn't crushing Lotor's shoulders to the floor any longer.  "What do you want?"  He asked, shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

The blood on Shiro's fist continued to drip down, becoming tacky as it thinned.  He tried to wipe it on the mat, but it wouldn't come off.

"You truly do not remember me?" Lotor asked.  His thumb ran parallel to one of the lines from his claws.  It didn't hurt.  "Nothing at all."

Shiro reached up and cupped his hand over Lotor's, heart pounding.

Then he wrapped his fingers around Lotor's wrist to yank his hand away.  "No.  I don't."  He pressed Lotor's hand against his chest.  "Nothing."

Lotor nodded, swallowing hard.  "I see.  I apologize, then.  I did want to spar, but- I also thought that perhaps if you were reminded..."

"I don't  _ want  _ to be reminded!"  The words came out louder than Shiro had meant, harsher.  He shoved off Lotor's chest, pushing himself up.  "Everything I learn about that time is more pain.  Everything!  I was a prisoner,  _ Prince. _  Do you really understand what that means?  It was obey or pain, fight or die, kill or be killed.  Torture for no reason at all.  At the whims of those who controlled me, no matter how nicely they asked or smiled.   How can you really understand how that feels?"

Pushing himself up on his elbows, Lotor gave Shiro a scathing look.  "Consider who my father is.  Yes, I understand."

Shiro's stomach twisted.  He shook his head, grinding his teeth together.  "It's not the same."

"You're correct.  It's not."  Lotor sighed and reached up, rubbing at the forming bruise on the side of his face.

Shame shot through Shiro again, icy fingers that made him flinch.  He'd sworn he wouldn't be like his own jailers, but he'd caused that wound.  "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have struck you so hard in a spar.  We should get you a salve for that."

Lotor sighed.  "I will survive for a few tics more.  If we are discussing this, I wish for the chance to speak."  He dropped his hand and met Shiro's eyes.  "I do not understand what it means to be a prisoner of the empire, you're correct.  When I was young, my father's authority was absolute, but I still received the benefits of my station.   I was fed and watered, clothed appropriately, my environment was comfortable.  And as I aged, I was able to circumvent my father's orders with my own power.  This is something you never had, and I know full well I would not have survived in your position."

It was the pure bare minimum of self-awareness, but Shiro still stared.  Lotor always seemed to wrapped up in himself, even when he'd been doting on Shiro.  Then again, of course he had a clear picture of his own benefits.  Lotor knew nothing so well as to how to maximize them.

"However, I do understand situations where 'no' is not an acceptable answer, even when it goes against my own desires and safety.  I do understand what it means to have to obey a cruel authority figure, even when they don't present as cruel."  Lotor shook his head, eyes falling closed.  "My banishment was meant to be the ultimate punishment.  But it turned out to be the first experience of true freedom I ever had.  There are times I wish that I had simply run before, had taken my plans and my needs and whatever would come with me and left.  Though it meant I would not have been brought back when the witch decided I was needed again."

Shiro took a deep, careful breath, hands gripping the fabric of his pants.  "What's your point, Lotor?  Just- say whatever you're getting at."

"Ah."  Lotor gave a rueful flash of a smile.  "I did get off topic, yes.  What I mean to say is..."  He gave a bark of laughter, sudden and wild.  This his gaze fell on Shiro, eyes softening. "For once, I don't know.  I didn't plan this little speech.  I suppose I want to tell you I still admire you greatly.  The person I knew was impressive, but nothing compared to who you are in freedom.  That's not surprising, but the scale of it is.  I want to thank you, for being the first person I know to hurt my father the way he deserves, a blow I only planned and wished to land.  And- this is selfish, but I miss you.  I miss you greatly."

Shiro stared.

He could feel his pulse in his throat, rabbit-quick.  A childish part of him wanted to cover his ears with his hands, to block out these words.  He didn't want to hear this.  Didn't want to hear these words that confirmed everything, but that softened the razor edge of what Lotor had done.

When there was no reply, Lotor nodded.  "This changes little.  You may take these words or ignore them.  But I wished for my chance to say them."

"And to force the memory back on me."

Lotor winced, and nodded.  "Yes.  That was... ill done.  An impulse.  It will not happen again."  He managed a thin smile, this time showing his teeth.  They were stained pink from his own blood.  He must have bit his tongue at some point in the spar.  "I learned my lesson.  Another you taught me."

Slowly, Shiro shook his head.  "This would all be much more flattering if you didn't want something for me.  Pretty words don't mean a lot right now."

"True."  Lotor let out a little bark of rueful laughter.  "If convincing you of my trustworthiness was as simple as a little flattery, then I won't complain.  I'll be disappointed in you, though.  I hope, however, that you won't use this as a reason against my plan.  The rift is the only way to defeat my father.  I've been sure of it for years.  All of my efforts have been toward getting through it and having the power to defeat Zarkon and his witch.  It is the only thing I've found in years of research that would even out ten thousand years of development and planning."

Years of planning and research.

Including during Shiro's captivity.

Lotor had said he couldn't save Shiro because it would bring suspicion down on him and reveal other plans.  At the time, Shiro hadn't cared what those plans were.  He hadn't wanted to know what goal he was less than.  But it must have been this.

When Shiro had asked, he'd had both his arms.

If Lotor had agreed, and decided help Shiro to run, even to come with him to freedom, Shiro would have both his arms.

But if Lotor was telling the truth, and his convictions were accurate - both reaches, but  _ if _ \- then this was the way to finally take down the Galra empire and  defeat Zarkon.

A deep shiver ran through Shiro, centered around the icy pit of his stomach.

Why couldn't he turn this off?  This hit him so deeply, held his head under emotions that Shiro could normally control.  But now he couldn't  _ breathe _ around the weight of his own biases.

Something was going to break, and at this rate it was going to be Shiro.

"Please," Lotor continued, his expression falling.  "Please, I'm only asking you give it a fair chance.  It's your choice, but do not throw away what could be the universe's salvation out of temper toward me.   _ Please." _

Oh, look at that.  He did know the word.

Shiro gave a jerky nod, feeling as though he had to control each individual muscle.  "I will.  I won't promise we'll do what you want, but our choice will be made because of merit and viability, not our emotions toward you."

Fuck, he hoped he was telling the truth.

Lotor let out a slow breath, nodding his head.  "Thank you," he murmured.  "I would still like exercise.  May I do the laps after all?"

At least he didn't want to spar, still.  Shiro nodded.  "If you still want to while that bruise is forming.  We can take care of it instead.”

"I have fought with worse wounds," Lotor said.  Then he smiled at Shiro, all grim, black humor.

Shiro stared back, confused.

The smile fell, then Lotor looked away.  He pushed himself to his feet.  "I'll only need half a varga to-"

A screech cut through his words.  The castle's alarm began to sound, instantly drawing Shiro to his feet.  He grabbed Lotor by the arm and started to run, even before an announcement was made.  Allura had them well trained in that regard.

"Paladins!" Coran's voice called.  "To the control room immediately!"

Lotor scrambled to catch up, then matched Shiro's pace.  "If you let go of me then I can return to my room."

"No," Shiro replied.  "I don't want you unmonitored during a crisis.  You'll stick with me until someone else can watch you."  Who knew what chaos Lotor could get up to in the distraction of a battle?

Within minutes, they ran into the control room, closely followed by the other paladins.  "Coran?" Shiro called, stepping over.  "What's going on?"

"We received a distress call from the rebels," Coran informed, voice tight as he concentrated on the controls in front of him.  From the blur of blues on the screen, he must have used the saved wormhole jump.  "No message, just the emergency signal."

Shiro's grip tightened on Lotor's wrist automatically,.  He let go before he accidentally did damage.

Maybe it was a mistake.  Maybe someone had accidentally set the alarm, or they sent it before someone attached a message explaining the problem.

Or maybe what was happening was so bad they didn't have time for anything but the signal.

"Who was it from?" Pidge demanded, whirling on Coran.  "Which ship sent the call?"

"It was from the main patrol fleet," Coran replied.  "I'm afraid I don't know any more than that.  We're arriving- now!"

The wormhole ended, spitting them out into open space.

And to complete destruction.

The viewfield was filled with debris, dozens of ships flying by in pieces and scraps.  Ships darted through, a few the boxy shape of the rebellion, but mostly there was the sleak points and purple glow of the Galra.

One ship hovered just beyond the edge of the battle.  Energy formed in front of it, glowing brightly, and then shot out, cutting a line through the graveyard of ships and clipping two more in the process.  They all erupted on impact.

This section of the rebel fleet was nearly completely destroyed.  

In the minutes it took to respond to their distress signal.

Arms dropping, Pidge stepped forward, staring at the window.  Her eyes were wide, lit by the lights of the command room and the streaks of ship fire.

"Matt," she breathed.


	6. Chapter 6

Shiro took a deep breath, as if fortifying himself against the destruction in front of him.  Then he turned and faced the team, minus Pidge.  "Keith, watch Lotor.  Make sure he doesn't go anywhere or touch anything.  Help Coran if you can."

Eyes bright, Keith pulled out his knife and held it tightly.  "Got it."

"I'll remain here," Lotor insisted, hands up.  He set his jaw, ignoring Keith's intense glare.

Even if the argument would have gotten them anywhere, they didn't have time.  Shiro didn't bother to respond, just looked to the rest of the team.  "The rest of you, to your lions."

"On it," Lance said, tone without any cheer - there was only grim determination on his face.  He, Hunk and Allura turned and raced out the door toward their hangars.

But not Pidge.

She was still facing the window, eyes wide and unmoving.  If she'd heard Shiro's words, she didn't react.

"Pidge," Shiro called, voice gentling.

Finally, she startled, looking back at him.  Her eyes shone with moisture, threatening but not yet falling.  

"Let's hit them back.  Then we'll find him."

For a moment, Pidge blinked, like she still wasn't registering his words.  Then her whole face twisted into a determined glare.  With a sharp nod, Pidge turned and full on sprinted out the room.

Shiro cast one more glance out at the graveyard of scrap in front of them.  Their arrival had finally been noticed, and the ships were beginning to turn toward the castle.  But the shields activated, courtesy of Coran, and none of the shots hit.

Time to make good on his word.

With a last nod to Coran and Keith, Shiro ran for his own lion.

In seconds, he settled in the cockpit of the Black Lion, surging into space.  The Blue, Yellow and Red lions were already making quick work of several of the stray fighters, and Shiro heard Pidge let out a snarl as the Green Lion made a beeline straight for the larger cannon.

"Coran," Allura called.  "If you can, search for short-range communication signals.  If anyone is trying to call to us, we'll find them that way."

On screen, Coran nodded.  "On it, Princess.  Watch for the largest ship.  It's starting to draw power again."

"That's what we need to take out first," Shiro agreed.  The individual fighters were something even the average rebel ship could fight off, but the energy cannon was similar to what had been used during the blitz.  They must have caught this rebel fleet by surprise, either through cloaking or by dropping out of hyperspace right on top of them.  It would explain why they didn't have time to send out a full distress message.  "Voltron can take care of it."

"Slight problem with that," Hunk noted.  "Pidge.  Pidge!"

Indeed, the Green Lion wasn't flying back into formation.  There was steely, furious silence from her communication link as the blur of green continued to rocket toward the cannon.

There was no way Shiro could have ordered Pidge to sit out this fight, even if they had someone else to fly Green.  But talking her down wasn't going to be effective either.

Instead, Shiro shot after her.  "Alright, scatter and distract.  Lance, help Pidge do as much damage to the sides as you can.  Allura, Hunk, keep the fighters off them as best you can."

"Can do," Lance said.  "C'mon, Red, let's see how this thing takes some heat."

"What about you, Shiro?"  Allura asked.

"The castle can take a hit or two from that thing, but I've got a better idea."

The rebels were allies.  Shiro knew their faces, had shaken their hands, had fought side-by-side with them, both literally and metaphorically.

The rebels included Matt.

Matt, who had survived the Galra mining camp, who had fought tooth and nail, searching for his father and finally reuniting with his sister.  Had survived the blitz, even when so many rebels had not.

Matt, who had joked with him on the trip to Kerberos, who had slept three feet to the left for months, who had greeted him with 'Sir' and a handshake, who had stayed up all night pressed to his side just a few days ago.

Matt, who Shiro had agreed to finally speak with, and then put off.

Matt, whose body might be in pieces in this rubble.

Yeah, he had some ideas.

Lips drawing back in a snarl, Shiro shot forward, aimed directly at where he could see power building on the cannon.  It shifted slightly, locking onto the obvious, easy target.

Shiro waited till it was nearly ready to follow.

Then he shot to the left in a high-speed arc.

The cannon followed, swerving in place to keep him in the crosshairs.  Then it fired, just as Shiro pushed forward and brought Black to full speed.

The streak of energy tore through space, moving in a glowing line as it tried to follow the Black Lion's movements.  

Right into the path of several of the Galra fighters, all of which immediately exploded.

Shiro turned to watch, chest burning with satisfaction as those Galras died the same way the rebels had.  His fingers gripped tight around the controls and he took a deep breath, then let it out.

It tasted like metal and fire.

"How much headway are you making?" Shiro called, turning back around.

Lance hummed.  "Some."  He flew in tight circles around the cannon, leaving deep gouges in the side of it.  The metal didn't completely give, but it buckled and weakened under the onslaught.  "It'll take five, maybe ten doubashes to take this down at this rate."

Several fighters tried to follow him, firing to try and force him away.  But Yellow slammed into the side of one, sending it crashing into the other.  They both broke apart in a spray of sparks.

"That's long enough to get another two shots," Allura pointed out.  Blue covered right in front of Green, using the tail blaster against anyone who tried to disturb them.  

Shiro could repeat the trick, but they probably wouldn't fall for it.  "Coran, any luck with finding contacts?"

"I'm in communications with the rest of the rebel fleets," he replied.  "I've gotten a few pings, but no open communications from anyone."

In the chaos out there, most were probably busy.  But until the cannon was down, there was no sense fighting the smaller targets.

"We need Voltron," Shiro called.  "Pidge, pull back."

There was a quiet hiss of breath on the other end. "I'm almost in."

"Pidge," Shiro repeated, voice softer but with an edge of steel.  "We can finish this in seconds with Voltron.  Pull back.  That's an order."

Green finally reared back from the cannon, abandoning the attempt to burst through the casing with plants.  There was no verbal command, but it was enough.

Shiro sympathized.  He'd just did that entire stunt with Black just for the satisfaction of  _ doing _ it.  Pidge probably wanted to be the one to land the killing blow. 

But that was less important than saving the lives of who they could.

"Form Voltron."

In moments, the full form of Voltron came together, as the cannon recalibrated to aim at them.  

Taking a deep breath, Shiro gripped the controls.  "Hunk, how many of the fighter ships can you hit and still get through the cannon?"

There was a brief pause, then yellow targets began to appear on the screen.  "A lot," Hunk replied, voice grim.

"Do it," Pidge growled, her eyes flashing behind the glass of her helmet.  "I want them all  _ gone." _

Without waiting for another order, Hunk slammed the yellow bayard in and fired.

The cannon didn't even have time to pull together more energy before it was ripped to shreds.  Around them, fighter jets flew apart in a glow of fire and destruction.

Seconds.  It took Voltron seconds to fight off this fleeet.

But it had taken the Galra seconds to do the same to the rebel fleet.

Shiro's stomach sank as he watched the debris hang in the air.

Lotor was right.

Voltron was only one ship.  Five at best.

They needed something more, or else Voltron was going to be the only thing standing, and there'd be no one else left to save.

***

In the wake of the attack, five rebel ships remained, three of which were so badly damaged they'd been mistaken for scrap by the Galra fighters and left alone.

Five out of what had once been over sixty ships.

Despite a through combing of the area, there was no evidence anyone had survived without a ship.

Shiro landed the Black Lion in the hangar, then leaned back in his chair and took off his helmet.  Then, he let out a long, pained breath.

He'd wanted something to push him toward a decision.  He'd wanted a way to be sure his biases weren't getting in the way of his opinion, to be sure his choice was the right one and not the one his emotions dictated.

This was his answer.

"Be careful what you wish for," he muttered, letting his eyes fall closed.

In the back of his mind, there was a gentle rumble.  The Black Lion was still quiet, compared to how the connection had been.  Shiro suspected that was mostly his fault.  He could never forget how he'd woken up back in Galra custody, and the week to get back to Voltron, then the days of recovery after.  But the feeling from the lion was clear and strong - a warm press of comfort, the mental equivalent of a shoulder squeeze.

"Enough moping, I know," Shiro said.  "Thank you.  I'm not the one who needs comfort right now."

With that, he stood and stepped out of the lion, then set off at a jog toward the general hangar, as the remaining rebel ships towed in those that had survived but had been damaged.

Shiro was the last to arrive.  Ahead of him, Pidge stood, her back straight and her shoulders set, as the ships began to enter.  Next to her, Hunk hovered, one hand out like he wanted to touch but wasn't sure if he should.  Lance took her other side, rocking from toe to heel as he chewed his bottom lip.  Allura stood behind them all like she was guarding, helmet clutched tightly at her chest.

Standing next to the princess, Shiro caught her eye and inclined her head toward Pidge.

Allura shook her head, discouraging.  Not accepting comfort, then.

That made sense.  Letting them comfort them was the same as admitting there was a need for it.  It was acknowledging that Matt hadn't survived, and they didn't know that for sure.

The first of the ships settled into place, then another, until they all landed.  The hatch of the closest undamaged ship opened, revealing unfamiliar faces.  They barely offered the paladins a glance as they moved to one of the damaged ones, forcing a hatch open.

Someone stepped out.  Also unfamiliar.  Then two more, one helping the other walk on what looked like a twisted ankle.

Pidge took a step forward, shaking her head.  She craned onto her tiptoes, trying to see further back at the rest of the ships.

More rebels started to pour out, two or three to each ship.  Several of them were injured, mostly mildly, like they'd been thrown around the cockpit.

Just as Shiro's stomach started to freeze over, he spotted a head of familiar brown hair.

"Matt!"  Pidge set off at a full sprint.  She slammed into her brother's side, nearly knocking him clean off his feet.

Matt Holt, ruffled, and with a new, nasty-looking bruise up the side of his face, wrapped his arms around Pidge's shoulders.  "Hey, there, short-stuff.  Missed me that much?"

There was no reply, only the way Pidge's fingers cling desperately at the loose, blue fabric of his clothes.  Even from here, Shiro could see the way Pidge was trembling.

A wave of relief crashed down on Shiro.  He continued to stare at the reunion, not quite comprehending it.  His head felt too light for the rest of his body, like it was dragging him up like a balloon.

"Thank goodness," Allura murmured.

Hunk let out a giant breath.  "Yeah.  That- that would have been bad."  He scrubbed over his face, and took a watery sounding breath.  "Okay.  Yeah.  Good."  When Lance rubbed up and down his back, Hunk shot him a weak smile.  

Shiro took another deep breath, then forced himself to steady.  "Lance, Hunk, can you two make sure everyone injured gets seen to?  I'll send Coran to the pods.  I think we have enough for everyone."

"We can do that," Lance agreed.  "I think only a couple of people will need it, so it won't be hard."

Offering him a thankful smile, Shiro turned to Allura.  "And will you contact the main fleet and let them know about the survivors, and what we know from the attack?"

Allura gave a short nod, her brow furrowed.  "Of course.  I'll tell the Blade of Marmora as well.  They'll need to know about this.  But the coalition is more used to hearing from you."

Setting his jaw, Shiro nodded.  "Yes.  But I'm going to talk to Lotor.  It's time we heard more about the rift."

"What?"  Hunk's head snapped up as he stared at Shiro.  "I mean, we can talk about it.  But is it a good idea to make that call right now?  We're all kinda..."  He glanced at Pidge.  "Emotional right now."

But Shiro stared back steadily.  "Lotor told us before that Voltron couldn't be everywhere we needed at once.  Today, he was proven right.  I'm not going to wait around to learn that lesson twice, not when it just cost us so many lives."

Hunk bit his bottom lip, but he nodded.  "Okay."

"Nothing's going to happen tonight anyway," Lance pointed out.  "We can always back out if we don't like what Lotor's up to.  Princess?  You on board too?"

Allura took a deep breath, then let it out.  "We fought and won back a third of the universe already, without Lotor's rift and with only Voltron.  But I cannot deny that the larger an area we need to defend, the harder it is for us to respond.  Even if we could get their fast enough, if the Galra so much as split their forces, we cannot always keep up with where we might be needed.  Our allies need more ways to defend themselves.  This has proven that."  Her eyes fell on the Holt siblings.  "Or more families will be torn apart."

"Yeah."  Hunk bit the inside of his cheek.  "Alright.  For now, we've got a job to do."

As he and Lance stepped away, Allura caught Shiro’s eye, then nodded to Matt and Pidge.  "Do you want to greet him too?"

Shiro followed her gaze, watching as the two finally broke apart, though Pidge's fingers never fully let go.  From the wide gestures Matt was making, he was describing the battle before Voltron arrived.

"I can see he's alright.  I'll speak with him later.  Let Pidge have time."

Allura nodded.  "Alright.  But we'll need her soon to start planning how to work with the rift."

That was true.  But Shiro could at least get the ball rolling.  "Not yet.  I'll meet up with you to talk with the other factions once I'm finished telling Keith and Lotor."  With a final nod, he turned and strode to the door.

He made his way to the control room and stepped inside.  Immediately, Keith snapped to attention, brow drawn close in worry.  "Where's Pidge?"

"With her brother," Shiro replied, offering him a smile.  He nodded to Coran, who let out a long sigh of relief.  "There were a few injuries among the people we recovered.  Coran-"

"Alright on my way."  He gave a flash of a smile, pale compared to his normal, and then headed out at a fast walk.

Only then did Shiro face Lotor.

Lotor's expression was neutral, even respectful.  But there was a light in his eyes like bitter victory.

"I'm glad to hear that the Green Paladin's brother is well," he said.  "How many others survived?"

"Fourteen in all."

Fourteen out of nearly a hundred and forty.

Lotor didn't say a word, just watched.

So Shiro drew himself up and met his gaze head on.  "Tell me more about the rift."

***

A knock on the kitchen door frame caught Shiro's attention.  He glanced up from his screen and offered Lance a smile.  "Hello.  Did you need something?"

Lance raised a hand in greeting, twitching his fingers in lieu of a wave.  "Just dinner.  I guess we're doing goo today?"

"Hunk is still working with Pidge, Matt, Coran, and Lotor about what he did to build the rift portal," Shiro replied, scrubbing over his face.  He usually thought of himself as intelligent, but the conversation had quickly flown over his head.  It just wasn't his realm of expertise, so he'd finally given up and left them to it.

"Yeah, even imagining listening to that is giving me a headache."  Lance picked up a plate and moved to the dispenser.  Once he had a hearty serving, he grabbed a spork, then pulled out the chair next to Shiro.  "We're really doing this?"

Shiro nodded, eyes falling closed.  "Seems so.  Unless the four of them find something wrong with the theory.  There's testing and building to do before anything happens, so we won't be flying through Lotor's hoops tomorrow.  But it's something."

"Yeah."  Lance jabbed his spork into his goo and sighed.  "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss the days when it was just us.  It was scary, and there was an impossible amount of work to do, but at least the choices were simple.  Fight bad guys or run.  Win or die.  None of this Lotor distrusting stuff."

Leaning back in his chair, Shiro eyed him.  "There was Rolo and Nyma," he said.  "I doubt you've forgotten that incident."

Lance's bottom lip stuck out.  "Okay, yeah, we couldn't trust everyone.  But what we did never felt so big.  It was battle big.  Saving people big.  Planet big.  But this is multi-universe big.  It's different."

Finally, Shiro nodded.  "It is."  He prodded at the remains of his own meal, only half eaten.  "It was always universe big.  But the style of fighting we're doing is changing.  Before, we only had to worry about us and the people we were protecting at the moment.  Now, we have to think about armies, and enemy movements, and territory disputes, and factions."

"Exactly.  It sucks."  Lance took a big bite of his foot, chomping down on the spork like he was trying to break it in half.  "How do you deal with it?"

Shiro let out a bark of laughter.  "Just keep going.  Besides, I think the adjustment is a little different for me."  At Lance's curious look, he shrugged.  "I was always thinking of it big picture.  That's my job.  The only difference is now I'm helping coordinate armies, instead of just looking after you guys.  In terms of difficulty in management, I'd put them about equal."

"Very funny."  Lance elbowed him, but a smile pulled up at his lips.  It slipped quickly, and he looked over Shiro's face.  "But seriously.  Everything's changed.  I don't know what to do with myself anymore, really.  Now we're going through a rift in time and space on the behest of the ex-Galra Prince who tried to hunt us all across the universe to gather the pure energy needed to somehow make everyone have something as powerful as Voltron.  It's gotten so complicated, and I don't know how to wrap my head around it."

Stomach twisting in sympathy, Shiro rested his hand between Lance's shoulder blades.

He understood perfectly, wanting things to go back to a previous, simple form.  

Shiro had spent the last week trying desperately to pretend his own life and emotions hadn't gotten much more complex, after all.

"I don't think we can," he said, voice gentling.  "It'd be nice if we could, but we fought to be where we are, and we've gained a lot along the way.  Undoing that means giving it all up."

Nodding, Lance sighed.  "That's true.  It's not possible, anyway.  It's just weird."  He turned to look at Shiro, seeming to search over his face.  "You think it's worth it?"

Shiro thought back over the past two years of his life - his capture, the arena, Lotor, their relationship, his escape, Voltron, every battle, every win, and every loss.

"I do."

Lance smiled back, relaxing.  "Yeah.  It probably is.  We've done good, haven't we?  It was just easier to decide what was good and bad when things were simpler."

"We can only do our best," Shiro replied, patting his shoulder.  "As long as we do, I have faith in us.  We were chosen for a reason.  Some of us twice over."

Nose crinkled, Lance snorted.  "I dunno, does being rejected by Blue cancel out the first choosing?"

"Not even a little."

Lance ducked his head, but it didn't hide his pleased smile.  "Fine, I guess I am that awesome."  He took another bite, smiling around the spork.  "I'm glad you're here, you know.  I mean, in general.  You're good to have around.  But for this stuff especially.  When it was just us, we didn't really know what to do, or what we should be doing.  All of us kind of wanted to focus a different way.  Keith did his best, but he was going through a lot, and, well, you're really good at this.  I don't know what we'd do about Lotor if you weren't here."

Letting out a snort, Shiro scrubbed over his face.  "I'm not so sure.  I have a bad tendency of overthinking.  It's stalled me out for the past while.  Maybe if I'd been better at this, we'd already have gone through that rift and had a way to protect those people."

"Are you doing your best?"

Shiro froze at the question.

Was he?  It didn't feel like it.  Shiro felt like a mess, felt dirty, felt like he was running in circles.

But what else could he have done?  If he could repeat himself, go back and start over from Lotor's arrival, what would he do differently?

Not much.

"I think so."

"Then I have faith in us," Lance parroted back.  He patted Shiro on the shoulder, firm taps like he might have given to a dog's head.

Warmth filled Shiro, starting in his chest and bleeding into his stomach and limbs.  "Thank you."

Lance shrugged.  "Just the truth.  We all need pep talks sometimes.  Even you, Black Paladin."

"You're pretty good at them," Shiro said.  "Maybe someday you can take over from me."

"If that's my job as your right hand, I'm good with that."

Smiling, Shiro leaned over, so his shoulder pressed to Lance's.  "Me too."

There was an answering pressure.  Lance didn't speak, at least for the moment, but the steady, warm weight of him was answer enough.

They were doing okay.

Shiro should have faith in his team.  That included himself.

If he was wrong, there were people around him to help spot the mistake and fix it.  There were people here to help.

Shiro took a deep breath, then let it go.

His muscles relaxed more than they had in days.

It was enough for now.

***

Five guards.

Why did Shiro need five guards today?

His eyes darted between the two in front of him, hyper aware of the three other footsteps.  Even when he'd originally fought back and bit, he'd only had three, maybe four guards.  When bigger opponents were taken from the cells, he'd seen more, but only when beings were so large and dangerous that the usual two wasn't enough.

But Shiro hadn't fought back in weeks.  He hadn't dared, not when he couldn't tell the guards apart enough to know which were responsible for keeping Lotor's secrets and delivering him.  He hadn't heard about anybody else causing a big fight either - one of two beings always rebelled, but they were quickly put down as usual.

So why?

The familiar hallway lead them out toward the antechamber before the arena.  Shiro could hear voices and calls, the sound of hundreds of voices bleeding together, but it was different.  The energy of it was different, though Shiro couldn't pinpoint exactly why.  There was still excitement, still anticipation, still that bloodlust.  But it felt... hushed, maybe.  Quieter.  More intense.

Three more guards stood before him.  Two flanked either side of the door, wielding _ blasters  _ instead of the usual shock prods.  Shiro's mouth fell open, his gait paused, until one of the captors behind him gave him a rough shove to get him moving.

The third held a blade.

The kind that Shiro had used to fight Myzax.  If he had a signature weapon in the arena, it might have been this.

His cuffs were taken off, and then the muzzle.  Surrounded by now eight guards, Shiro seriously considered trying to talk, to duck away, to do something.  Whatever had changed, he doubted it was a good thing.  The only change that had ever been for Shiro's benefit was Lotor.

There was no announcer call, to roar of the crowd, but one of the guards cocked their head, like they could hear a voice Shiro couldn't.  Then the one with the weapon shoved it into Shiro's hands.  

"You had a long run, Champion."

Stomach dropping, Shiro's fingers wrapped numbly around the handle.  

What?  No matter who Shiro had faced, no one had ever acted like he was doomed to die.  Not since that first battle.  

Before he could do more than gape, there was another, stronger shove.  Shiro stumbled through the open doorway and into the arena, blinking rapidly at the bright lights.

The other side's door was open, but Shiro couldn't see past the bright lights into the yawning darkness yet.

His own entrance slammed shut, leaving Shiro alone in the dirt.  He adjusted his grip on his curved blade and looked around, trying desperately to figure out what was going on.

At first, he couldn't see anything different.  The stands were full of Galra, all of whom were speaking and watching and calling. 

No other species.  Just Galra.

Finally seeing them, Shiro could tell the difference between their usual screams and today's.  They were suppressing themselves.  It only added to the electricity of the air, a sense that soon all that energy would find release.  This was excited, yes, but it was more  _ anticipatory. _

The other major change was that the Emperor's box was not empty.

Shiro had seen Zarkon at his fights a few times, since he'd began fighting.  He'd been there the first time, though Shiro hadn't known the significance of that yet.  There were a few fights Zarkon ha'd watched, mostly against similar, skilled opponents.  But for the most part, Shiro assumed he was either busy, or his style wasn't to the emperor's taste.

Today, Zarkon stood.  And he stared directly at Shiro.  Not with the impersonal stare of someone watching a sporting event or going to a zoo, like usual.

He was  _ glaring _ at Shiro.

His witch was there as well, watching with a cocked head.  Her hood was up, long hair tumbling out and hands folded in her lap.  In the shadows, Shiro couldn't see her face, but the set of her curved shoulders looked aggressive as well.

There was a flash of movement at the other side of the arena.  Shiro snapped his attention away from Zarkon and moved into a ready stance, prepared for whatever was worth all this.

Someone strode out, sword held loosely and head raised high, like he was above all this nonsense.

Prince Lotor stood in the dirt, under the bright lights of the arena.  He didn't look at Shiro, but instead kept his gaze firmly on Zarkon - on his father.

Realization crashed down on Shiro, so powerful it nearly knocked him from his feet.

Lotor had been found out.  Zarkon knew that Lotor had been disobeying orders to visit Shiro, and probably knew exactly what they'd been doing in those times.

The Emperor of the universe knew that his son had been sleeping with a gladiator.

Now he was going to punish them both.

Finally, Lotor's eyes drifted to Shiro.  His grip on his sword loosened, and he took a deep breath.  Then, barely moving his jaw, he mouthed 'I'm sorry.'

Shiro shook his head, purely on reflex.  

This had been his one good thing.  The source of comfort, of warmth, of touch that didn't hurt.  Lotor was the only one that smiled at him and meant it.

And now they were standing in the arena together.  And that only meant one thing.

A hush fell over the entire stadium as Zarkon stood.  Lotor's gaze immediately snapped back to attention, but Shiro didn't look.  Couldn't look.  As if watching would make it real.

"All citizens of the my Empire are held to standards.  A Prince is no exception.  Those who fail are not strong enough.  They do not deserve their place."  

Shiro squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to wake up from this.  The blade in his hands was heavy, solid, a weight that anchored him to the moment.

There was no running from this.

"Prince Lotor has called into question his standards.  Now, he seeks to prove he can match what the heir of the empire must be."

Shiro looked over Lotor's delicate features, remembering how they'd felt under his fingertips.  Saw those long fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword, and remembered them on his own skin.  The lips, drawn back in a dark snarl now, that pressed kisses to the back of Shiro's neck.

"Victory or death."

The crowd cried their agreement.   _ Veprit Sa.  Veprit Sa. _

Lotor slowly turned and met Shiro's eyes again.  This time, his expression was unreadable.  His feet shifted, cutting furrows through the dirt as he entered a fighting stance.

Kill or be killed.

Could Shiro fight Lotor?  Could he hurt the person who overwhelmed the pain with pleasure?

"Begin."

Lotor darted forward instantly, hair waving like a banner and the point of his sword extended.  

Instinct took over.  Shiro rolled to the side, out of the way.  He raised his own blade up.  It caught Lotor's follow up strike.  Sparks flew from the impact, reflected in the Lotor's narrow gaze.

The strength of the blow vibrated down Shiro's arm.  He knew what it felt like when Lotor held back.

He wasn't now.

Shiro fainted a kick to Lotor's stomach, then instead struck up at his shoulder.  Lotor fell for it, taking the blow hard.  It knocked him off balance, long enough for Shiro to get steady again.

But that was all the time he got.  Lotor recovered quickly, slashing toward Shiro's shoulder, stomach, knees.  The constant barrage narrowed Shiro's world to reaction.  There was no time to regroup, to push away, to retaliate.

All those times they'd talked about Shiro's opponents, how best to counter them, Lotor had also been finding Shiro's strengths and weaknesses.

An impact knocked Shiro out of his thoughts.  The back of his head hit something hard.   Stone.  A pillar.  Lotor had backed him up into one, keeping him from backing away.

The sword jabbed right at his stomach.

Shiro used his blade to intercept, locking the weapons together. 

Almost immediately, his arm started to buckle.  In a pure contest of strength, Lotor's height and weight outclassed Shiro's.  Besides which, he was well fed and well rested.  Shiro was not.

Shiro met Lotor's eyes, his own wide.  He needed- something.  Some support.  Some acknowledgement. 

Lotor stared back, his own face totally blank, except for his eyes.

They said  _ 'forgive me.' _

Lotor had chosen victory.  Which meant he'd chosen death for Shiro.

Something in Shiro's chest cracked.  

For one brief moment, he considered letting go.  The arena would kill him one day.  Was it so bad to die by Lotor's hands?  He would be merciful, Shiro thought.  It would be a dignified death, and then it would be over.  No more pain, no more starving, no more cold nights.

He would never have to kill again.

But then Shiro thought of Matt, who was probably still in the work camps.  Of Commander Holt, who was who-knew-where.  Could either of them get home without a pilot?

Home, where Keith was.  Who Shiro had promised he would come back to.  Earth, the Galaxy Garrison, all places that felt like fairy tales.  But they were real, and they were waiting.

Only if Shiro survived.

So Shiro kicked out, hitting the sides of both blades with the bottom of his boot.  Both weapons hit the ground in a clatter.

Then Shiro used both hands to grip the pillar for balance, and used the same boot to kick Lotor in the throat.

It wasn't as powerful a blow as he would have liked.  They were pressed too close, and Lotor was taller than him.  Instead, Shiro hit his upper chest.

Even so, Lotor stumbled back from the force.  One hand automatically covered his throat protectively.

There was a flash of a smile on his lips, despite everything.

Then Lotor stepped back forward, fist raised to strike.  But Shiro twisted to the side, ducking down and following the solid line of the thick pillar.

Rather than continue in a circle, Shiro shoved back the way he came, only seconds after disappearing.  Lotor headed the same way, trying to cut Shiro off on the assumption he would continue his momentum.

That was distraction enough to dive for their weapons.

Shiro grabbed the handle of his blade in his right hand, and went for Lotor's sword with the left.  It was heavy, sagging awkwardly in his grip.  The size was too much for him, especially in his one, off hand.

But it wasn't in Lotor's grip, which was all the better.

By that point, Lotor realized the trick.  He took a step forward, then thought better of it.  Instead he sank into a defensive stance.  Waiting.

Shiro took a deep breath, blanking his mind of anything but the fight.

Then he charged.

The curved blade was meant to be two handed.  But Shiro was practiced with it, and it gave him longer reach than Lotor.  The first strike was ducked, the second side-stepped.  Shiro kept forward, pushing himself closer, goading a reaction.

Lotor stepped in closer, hand pressed to Shiro's stomach.  One of the momentum counters that Lotor had taught to Shiro.

So Shiro knew exactly how he was about to move.

Bringing the weapon between them, Shiro pushed it up just as Lotor stepped into it.  It sliced through his bare armor and clothing, leaving a gash along his stomach.

First blood.

But the blow didn't stop Lotor.  He pressed through, flipping Shiro on the pivot point of his stomach and slamming him into the ground.  The impact lost his loose grip on the sword, sending it skittering over the dirt.

Lotor's eyes followed it instinctively.  The loss of attention was enough time for Shiro to move.  He shoved up with his shoulders, landing on his feet with a kip-up.  

Shiro swiped for Lotor's stomach again, going for where he'd already wounded.  But Lotor side-stepped him, then bent down and snatched his sword up.  Lightning quick, he got it between himself and Shiro, blocking the second blow, and then the third.

This time, it was Shiro attacking without pause.  There was no break, no quarter, no mercy.  Just the cold certainty that Shiro had to win.

He would not die here.

No matter the cost.

Lotor's face twisted, a complicated mixture between fear and satisfaction.  But before Shiro could think on it, Lotor twisted down and under a blow, nearly bending his spine in half like a game of limbo.  He came up on Shiro's unprotected right side and sliced.

Instinctively, Shiro took a step back, trying to get out of the way.  The blade didn't sink into his chest.

Instead, it sliced clean through his right arm.

Shiro watched, as if he was just one of the observers.  He saw his arm hit the ground, fingers losing the fierce grip on the blade.  He watched blood start to gush from the stump left behind, cut cleanly right at the elbow.  He saw the splash of blood on the dirt, clumping it together in deep-red chunks.

He saw Lotor's eyes widen, and his step falter.

There was no pain, yet.  No sense of reality, no realization that the arm on the ground was really  _ his. _  That the stump was him, that the blood was him.  

So he didn't stop fighting.

When Lotor stopped moving, Shiro pivoted on his heel and kicked out with his right foot, hitting Lotor right in the side of the knee.

Something gave, and there was a startlingly loud crack.

Lotor's face went pale as he collapsed to the ground.  His sword clattered as he instinctively tried to grip his broken knee.

Before Lotor even hit the dirt, Shiro started to reach for the fallen sword.  At first, only the stump moved.  Then, without registering what that mean, Shiro grabbed with his left hand instead.  The grip was still awkward, but he didn't need perfection anymore.

Shiro slammed his knee into Lotor's stomach, throwing his entire weight behind the move.

Then he raised the sword up and brought it down.

He stopped it just half an inch over Lotor's throat.

Blood dripped from the stump, collecting on Lotor's chest and dripping down his shoulders into the dirt.  But the sword held steady.

Victory.

There was utter silence in the arena.

Slowly, Shiro looked toward the Emperor's box.  To Zarkon, who sat up straight, expression blank.

Watching.  No move to protect his son.

Next to him, the witch stood.  Her hood was back, and her eyes gleamed even from a distance.   It was impossible to tell who she was looking at, but there was no disappointment in her face or body language.  Just fascination.

Shiro looked back down to Lotor, who stared back up after him.

The corner of those familiar, thin lips quirked up.  He nodded, eyes narrowing in expected pain.

But instead, Shiro stood up and took several steps away.  Lotor sat up, but when he tried to do more, he groaned weakly and slumped back down.

Then, Shiro threw the sword to the side.

"No kill."

The silence hung.  Shiro couldn't even hear breathing, as everyone waited for Zarkon's reaction.

Shiro was too.  But even as he stood there, he smiled.

They could do what they wanted to him.  He had won, but they hadn't broken.  This would not be his next kill.

He swayed in place, as a wave of dizziness hit.  But he kept his feet, and met Zarkon's stare as he continued to watch.

The witch turned, murmuring something in Zarkon's ear.  Her fingers curled on open air, as if she wanted to grasp something tightly in them.

A beat, more silence, as Zarkon and Shiro continued to stare each other down.

Then, Zarkon stood.  "We have a victor."

Shiro crashed to his knees, unable to stand.  There was a roaring in his ears, which drowned out the cheers and the most of Zarkon's words.

"...banished from the empire..."

The doors opened, and guards poured into the arena, going for both injured combatants.

"...unworthy of his title..."

Lotor caught Shiro's eyes, his own wide and scared.  His lips formed his name, but Shiro couldn't hear it.  He look passed Shiro's shoulder, glaring.

"...proven himself valuable..."

A clawed hand grabbed hold of Shiro's stump, using it to turn him around.  The tipped edges dug into the open flesh, sending shooting pains through him.

That was him.  That was his open flesh.  That was his arm, that some guard was picking up like disgusting piece of trash on a beach.

"...honor of assisting the High Priestess..."

Yellow eyes smiled down at Shiro, with the same scientific interest that Lotor had shown him that first night.  Her mouth curled up into a satisfied smile as she motioned to two beings in a mask and a robe.  They both moved to Shiro's side, lifting him bodily.  

He was too dizzy and tired to fight.  The lights of the arena seemed to be dimming.

"...will make something great of him."

The world went black.

***

Shiro woke screaming.


	7. Chapter 7

Kicking furiously, Shiro freed himself of the covers.  He yanked off his shirt just as fiercely, not caring when he heard the seams strain and snap at the force.  Then he ran his hand over where the metal met flesh on his right arm.

That was how he'd lost it.

Shiro had  _ remembered. _

Sweat stuck his hair to his forehead, sending shivers through him.  Each breath came fast, too short, too quickly.   The memory ran in tight circles in his head, flashes that kept returning every time he tried to think.  The feel of the blade cutting through, leaving nothing behind.  The sight of his own arm, fingers still as they barely curled around the handle.  The splatter of blood, of his blood, so much of it.  Drenching the dirt below, turning it into mud.

The feeling of Haggar's claws digging into the severed flesh.

Shiro gagged.  Then, like that had been the signal to his body, he heaved again, tasting bile in the back of his throat.  It burned, choking him.  

He remembered the pain.

Shock had stayed with him through the whole fight, a determined kind of denial that refused to accept that the flesh and bone on the dirt was his own.  But he could remember how it felt after, now.  Could remember the all-consuming pain.

His fingers dug into the metal.  A part of him, desperate and scared, still hoped this was a nightmare.  A prank.  If he just scratched and dug, the metal would part way and his arm would still be there.  He could feel it.  He could  _ feel it. _

He just-

Shiro needed to get out of here.

He shoved himself to his feet, stumbling and nearly falling.  Then he crashed into the wall, and used that to guide him to the door.  It opened automatically to him, going from the dark of his room to the lowlights of the castle's night cycle.

It didn't feel real.  In the same way that he hadn't been able to accept his arm on the ground.  Shiro was observing again, watching himself as if riding from his own head.

Stumbling forward, Shiro continued to move.  At first, he walked aimlessly, just not wanting to stay where he was.  But the memory cycled again, in the blink of an eye - Lotor, fight, victory, Haggar.  Holding Lotor's own blade to his throat and watching the blood drip down his lover's chest.

Shiro gagged again.  This time, bile pooled in his mouth.  He swallowed it back before it could escape.

Bathroom.  He needed a bathroom.

That was at least a destination he could get to.  Shiro wandered there automatically, shoulders curled in and still wrapped protectively around his arm.  The door opened to him, and inside was bright.

Shiro blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden glare.  To standing in the dirt with the lights around him, onlookers watching with breathless energy-

No, not there.  Castle.  Bathroom.  Sinks.  Mirrors.

Matt Holt, washing his hands.

"You're up late," Matt commented, his smile thin.  He turned, wiping his hands down the front of his pajamas.  "Nightmares too?  It was a long- Shiro?"

Matt, younger, staring up at him like he was a monster.

"I'm sorry," Shiro managed, the words slurring past his lips.  "I tried-"  He backed up, curling in on himself.  Protect the wound.  Don't let them see your weakness.  His back hit the stone- hit the metal wall.  Trapped.

"What are you- oh, man.  Uh, Shiro?"  Matt stepped forward again, hands up in placation.  "Hey, what's wrong?  Are you hurt?"

Shiro clutched harder at his arm and set his jaw.  He shook his head hard, eyes desperate.  When he tried to push away from Matt, he stumbled and slid down the wall instead.  "No."

This time, Matt didn't follow.  He stared at Shiro as if he'd never seen him before, visibly pale in the bright lights of the bathroom.  "Okay.  Um.  Can I get someone?  Shiro, who should I get for you?"

The first name to come to mind was 'Lotor.'

Shiro's fingers curled more tightly around his arm.

"Keith," he admitted, voice small.  That was who he was going back for.  That was who had kept Shiro alive, when it had all come down.  "Keith."

Matt brightened visibly at the goal.  "Yeah.  Keith, got it.  Just... hold still.  I'll be right back."

With that, Matt bolted out of the room, leaving Shiro alone.

Curling up closer, Shiro brought his knees up, holding his right arm between them and his chest.  Then he pressed his forehead to his knees and shivered.

Zarkon's glare, Lotor stepping out, the look of determination in his eyes, Victory or Death-

"Stop," Shiro bit out, shaking his head against his knees.  "Stop it."

He ran his palm deliberately over the seam of metal and skin again, over and over.  

The sickening lack of response, when he'd reached down and there had been no arm to grab.

_ "Stop!" _

The door opened again, and voices filled the little room.

"-ll I know is that he asked for you."

"Fine, whe- Shiro!"  Keith stepped over and crashed to his knees in front of Shiro.  "What's wrong?  What happened?"

Shiro stared at Keith, at the bags under his eyes and the pale cast of his face.  He looked older, now, compared to the face Shiro had thought of in the arena.  It had been over two years.  

Shivering, Shiro squeezed his eyes closed.  "No, I'm fine, nevermind.  I don't need- you can go to bed."

"Like hell," Keith snapped back.  "You need to slow your breathing.  You're hyperventilating." 

He was?  Shiro stared back blankly.  He was dizzy, sure, but not because of that.  "S'bloodloss."

Keith's eyes went wide.  "What?  Where are you hurt?  We'll get you to a pod, c'mon."

Dazedly, Shiro raised is right arm.  "Fight.  Saw it on the ground."

Keith raised his hand, fingers outstretched to touch, and frowned when Shiro flinched back.  "Where are you bleeding?  Shiro, let me help you."

There was a hissed intake of breath behind him.  "No.  I think he means- you dreamed of losing it, didn't you?"  Matt stared at Shiro in open horror.

Another shiver ran through Shiro, harder this time.  The blade slicing through flesh.  Limp fingers clutching loosely at a weapon.  Lotor's look of horror as he stared.

Shiro gagged again, his whole body jerking from it.

"Trash can," Keith ordered, without looking back at Matt.  His eyes were totally locked on Shiro.  "Now."

"Right."  Matt turned in place, pulling the trash can out from under the cabinet.  

Keith took it and shoved it next to Shiro, then scooted closer.  "Shiro?  Shiro.  You need to breathe.  With me, okay?  Can you watch me?"

Looking at Keith's tired, pale face, Shiro gave a jerky nod.  "Yeah."

"In."  Keith demonstrated, taking a slow breath.  Just one inhale lasted for four of Shiro's breath.  "Out."  He let the air go for even longer.  "You too, okay?  In..."

It took several repeats, but Shiro started to follow.  He wasn't able to hold it as long as Keith at first, but bit by bit he brought his breathing down to a reasonable pace.

By that time, some of the panic started to bleed off.  Shiro slumped back against the metal wall.  The chill seeped into his skin, reminding him that he'd taken off his shirt from the beginning.  

He had to make a hell of a sight.  Sweat drenched, shirtless, scarred, curled up on the bathroom floor in a terrified little ball.

"I'm good," Shiro managed.  "Sorry.  I've got it.  You can stop."

Matt sat on his heels in front of him, offering a thin smile.  "You sure?  That was a hell of a panic attack, man.  For a hell of a reason."

Clutching his arm again, Shiro nodded.  "It was just a shock.  The memories come back often enough.  One of these days I was going to remember."

Keith reached out again, but his fingers stopped short of Shiro's skin.  "Can I see?  Does it hurt?"

Shiro shook his head and looked down.  There was no wound and no blood, but there were red marks where his nails had rubbed the skin raw.

For a moment, Shiro considered backing up again.  Part of his mind was still convinced the wound was fresh, and the memory of Haggar's fingers digging in was still so visceral in his memory.

But then he sighed and offered his arm.  "There's nothing wrong with it now."

Keith's hands were shockingly warm as they settled around Shiro's bicep.  Part of that was the metal, probably, but mostly it was from the sweat drying on his skin.

For several seconds, he ran his palms over, looking for any sign of damage.  His brows drew down, staring at the thick knotted scar at the point of contact.  But he didn't comment, thankfully.  "You look fine.  It's an old wound."

"Yeah," Shiro agreed.  He considered pulling his arm back, but Keith wasn't hurting him.  And the heat was kind of nice, after everything.  Instead, he slumped his head back against the wall and blinked at him.  "Sorry about waking you up.  Matt asked who I wanted and I wasn't thinking clearly."

"I'm glad," Keith said, low and fierce.  "I wish you'd do this more.  It helped?"

Shiro's eyes darted to Matt, then back to Keith.  "Yeah.  Matt would have gotten it.  Woulda been okay on my own, too.  But it helped."

"Reason enough to wake me, then."

Matt cleared his throat.  "Uh, if you're doing better, then do you want to move somewhere?  You can stay here if you don't feel steady, but I bet a couch would feel better."

Keith frowned, eyes flicking over Shiro's face.  "Or your room again, if you want to sleep."

There was a quiet snort from behind, which Matt tried to disguise as a cough.  

A smile cracked across Shiro's face, though it was jagged and sharp as a gouge in a cliff.  "Couch is good."

"Alright.  Need a hand?"

Shiro stared at Keith's offered palm, swallowing hard.  

Then he took it, and let Keith help pick his weight up.

Matt moved to his other side, hovering with his hands out like he expected to have to catch Shiro as they walked.  "You're good?"

"Just to the rec room?"  Shiro took a deep breath, and considered the way he still felt like he was about to keel over.  Then he sighed and raised an arm in silent askance.

Immediately, Matt plastered himself to Shiro's side, ducking under his arm so he could hold on.  Between him and Keith taking his weight, Shiro was able to walk down the hall without much problem, even when the world spun.  Even so, both of them let out grunts as Shiro was deposited on the couch.

"You're getting out of shape," Shiro murmured to Keith.  "I know you can lift heavier than me.  Didn't you say you've carried Galra?"

Keith snorted.  "You want me to fireman carry you?"

"I'd pay to watch that," Matt mused, flopping down onto the couch.  He took a pillow and pressed it to Shiro's side, then settled in like they had just a few nights ago.  "That shark movie with the pirate ship has another sequel.  Want me to put it on?"

On one hand, Shiro wasn't so sure about any movie with violence right now.  On the other, the last movie had been so cartoonishly unrealistic that he probably didn't count.  And, honestly, Shiro wasn’t sure he was capable of concentrating on a movie.

"Sure," he replied, relaxing back into the cushions.  A long sigh escaped him, more tired than he meant for them to hear.  "That’s fine."

Keith glanced between them both, before settling in as well.  Either he figured the movie context wasn't worth asking about, or he assumed it was from the Kerberos mission, because he didn't question the exchange.  "You want a blanket?"

Shiro shook his head, but then paused.  Then, sheepishly, he gave a tiny nod.  "Yeah.  Probably easier than getting my shirt again."  He'd like to be covered, both against the chill and from their eyes.  

Nodding, Keith popped up and moved to the storage chest on the side of the wall.  He produced a blanket, then poked at Shiro's shoulder until he sat up.  Then Keith tucked it around Shiro, even smoothing it over his shoulders.  "That good?  Need another?"

"That's plenty," Shiro replied, somewhere between embarrassed, amused, and pleased.  "Thank you."

Keith nodded again, then sat back down.  His fingers curled around the fabric on his thighs, like he was afraid otherwise he'd keep fussing.

Silence reigned for several minutes, while the movie showed very dramatic, slow POV shots of the ocean floor.  Then Matt turned to look at Shiro, brows up.  "So, uh, I don't know your protocol.  You want to talk about it?"

"He lost his arm."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't want to talk!  If I'd forgotten how I lost my arm and then I remembered, I'd probably want to talk."

From Keith's flat look, he entirely disagreed.

Shiro curled the blanket tighter around himself.  "It's complicated," he finally said.  The memory flashed by again, not quite as intensely but still enough to make him flinch.  "So, no, not really.  But I... I probably should." 

"Not if you don't want to," Keith immediately shot back.  "Ignore Matt.  No one's going to make you do anything."

Matt eyed Keith back, gaze flat.  "I asked if he wanted to, not forced him at gunpoint.  Complicated how?  What we talked about before complicated?"

Sighing, Shiro nodded.  "Yeah.  But- Look, neither of you has to deal with this.  It was already a long day.  You have enough going on."

Immediately, Matt's expression darkened.  "Yeah, well, better than going back to sleep.  And if I can help you out tonight?  That’s one thing that went right today."

Understanding settled in Shiro's bones like a chill.  If he'd been like Matt, stuck in a damaged ship, barely holding onto life support and watching the fight rage around him while he was totally helpless-

Yeah, he might be eager to offer aid elsewhere.  At least he'd feel like he'd made a positive impact on something.

"You already helped," Shiro said.  "In the bathroom.  That made a difference."

Matt eyed him flatly.  "Keith made a difference."  Before Shiro could respond, he sighed.  "Look, this isn't about that.  It's what'll help.  So, all I'm saying is not to shove us away for our own good or whatever.  I already promised to listen to you.  I already told you I get it more than you think.  So if you want to talk?  I can take it."

"I can too," Keith said.  "If you want to."

Dammit.  Damn  _ both  _ of them.

Shiro reached up, scrubbing over his face with his left hand.  "It's not- it's just hard."  Absurdly, his eyes burned with the tears that hadn't fallen during his panic attack.  "Fine, it's not you.  I don't want to ruin everything."

"You can't," Keith told him, just as fierce as in the bathroom.  "You never can."

Shaking his head, Shiro covered his eyes with his palm.  "You really don't know that."

"I'm with Keith," Matt said.  "I told you the other night.  Whatever it is, I get it.  I get being in a dark place and doing things you wouldn't have otherwise.  If we can help, let us.  Please.  It doesn't have to be right now, but... you promised me."

It was a low blow, to bright that up now.  To bind Shiro to his word, even while he said it could be later.

Shiro was kind of proud.

Without lifting his hand, Shiro took a deep breath.  "It's not what you're thinking," he said, voice small.  "I killed.  Everyone knows I did.  It was impossible not to.  You could get away without killing for a while, but it was combat.  The point was to hurt till one person couldn't fight anymore.  This isn’t about that.  It’s different."

"Shiro," Keith murmured, low and serious.  "You can't ruin us.  You can't ruin the team, and you can't ruin  _ us. _  If you want to talk, you can trust me."

A tremble ran through Shiro, starting from his guts.  He took a deep breath, wet and ragged. 

Everything had gotten so far out of control.  Shiro should have told someone so much sooner, and maybe they'd have answers already.  Maybe the rebels wouldn't have paid for Shiro's indecision and fear.

It was time to trust his friends.

"Promise me," he managed, voice small.  "You'll hear me out first.  All the way.  Then you can do what you want.  Okay?"

"Of course," Matt replied.  "Take your time."  There pause a pause, and then he continued.  "Is it okay to touch?"

Shiro shivered, but gave a jerky nod.  A hand settled on his left shoulder, squeezing firmly.  On his other side, Keith pressed in closer, like a protective sentinel.

He swallowed hard.  Then he curled in tighter, pulling his blanket farther over his shoulders.  "It was Lotor who cut off my arm."

Keith froze entirely, as Matt's breath hissed through his teeth.  "Jesus.  It wasn't in the arena?"

"It was," Shiro replied.  His voice climbed up a pitch, so he stopped and cleared his throat.  It didn't help, so he just tensed against the developing tremble and hoped neither noticed.   "We fought.  We had to.  Zarkon found out that Lotor had been sneaking me into his rooms."

There was a long pause as both of them realized the implications.  Shiro stayed curled up, palm flat to his eyes.  As if he could hide from their reactions.  At least he wouldn't have to see their disgust.

Then, Keith stood.

Shiro's stomach dropped to his feet.

"Keith!"  Matt called.  "Woah, hey, where are you going?"

"I'm going to kill him."

Immediately, Shiro dropped his hand and stood up.  "Keith!  Stop  _ right there." _

Keith did, his hand on the door frame.  "He cut off your arm," he repeated back.  "And you had to fight him because he was-"  His fingers tightened into tight fists, eyes flashing with rage.  "I don't care what information he has about the rifts.  He doesn't get to do  _ that _ to you and walk away like it’s nothing."

"You promised you'd listen," Shiro said.  "You promised me."

There was a pause, as Keith stayed firmly in place, arm still outstretched.  Then he let out a growl and turned on his heel, stomping back over.  "What can you possibly say that makes what he did okay?"

"It was consensual."  The trembles got worse, but Shiro held his ground, feet planted and head held high.  

Keith's eyes narrowed.  "While you were a prisoner and he was a prince?"

"Hey, enough," Matt called.  He patted the couch, brows up.  "How about you both sit down and start from the beginning, okay?  Rather than this stand-off thing.  It's not making this easier."

Shiro stared Keith down, waiting for him to sit first.

Finally, he did, if with ill grace.  Keith took a deep breath, then let it out and nodded.  "Alright.  What happened?"

Slowly, Shiro lowered himself back onto the couch.  He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, both for the warmth and to stall as he tried to figure out how to word this.  "I think it started a couple of months in.  There was a practice where gladiators could be... um.  Rented.  For the night.  It had never happened to me.  I assume because I kept winning, and no one wanted to jeopardize my performance."  He swallowed hard, closing his eyes again.  "Lotor did, though.  He had me brought after a fight, then sent the guards away.  Then he uncuffed me and took off the muzzle and told me to take a bath."  He paused, then let out a quiet, rusty-sounding chuckle.  "No, sorry.  He told me to undress. I tried to punch him, but I had a concussion and he knocked me down in one move."

"Pity," Keith muttered darkly.  “You want another shot?”

Matt groaned.  "Enough!  Just let Shiro talk."

Absurdly, though, Shiro started to relax.  Now that Keith wasn't about to stalk off and strangle Lotor with only part of the story, it was nice.  

Keith was still on his side.

Shiro hadn't dared to expect that.

"So I took a bath.  A healing one, that got rid of my cuts and bruises.  Then he treated my concussion and fed me.  Talked to me, too.  He was the only Galra who did.  And then I got to sleep.  That was all."  Shiro shrugged.  "It was baffling, but I wasn't going to question it.  It was the first time I'd been clean in months."

There was a pause, this one more sympathetic.  "I admit, that sounds... weird for Lotor," Matt offered.  "He's not exactly known for doing things out of the goodness of his heart."

Shiro cracked a smile, nearly fond.  It fell away almost immediately.  "No, he's not.  I kept asking, and he got frustrated with the question.  Wasn't my place.  But he kept renting me the same way.  Nothing changed, except little details.  He started to teach me tricks, counters for attacks.  Or he'd tell me about other opponents rising in ranks.  He still never asked anything of me, so I had no idea what he really wanted.  When it started, he watched me like I was a science experiment he was conducting.  But later, he- he would laugh at my jokes, or he thought I was clever, and-"  Shiro cut off again, his voice choked.

When he finally looked up, both Matt and Keith were staring at him.  Keith still looked confused, brow furrowed as he tried to follow Shiro's story.  But Matt's gaze was pure sympathy.

He probably understood what it felt like, it get nothing but cruelty, then find someone who treated you like a person instead of a slave.

Shiro looked away first.

"Then it stopped happening.  A few weeks went by, and I didn't think anything of it.  But Zarkon had found out.  Lotor made it sound like he'd just been- using me for the night.  He hadn’t yet, but Zarkon accepted that.  It was below Lotor's station, but it was more understandable then... whatever we were.  Friends, I guess.  Close to it, anyway.  He told Lotor to stop it.  Instead, Lotor just had me brought to storage rooms and snuck me more food so we could keep talking."

"Why?" Keith asked.  "What did he want from you?"

Shiro smiled again, another of those jagged cuts across his face.  "Because I was small.  Most opponents were so much bigger than me in the arena, so I had to out think them.  Use their weaknesses against them.  Lotor is the same way.  The Galra are about size and brute strength, but he can't win that way.  That was the reason why it started.  Because he wanted to give me an edge without looking like he was getting involved.  Rentals are private, so no one had to know but him and me."

It was so absurd.  The entire thing was ridiculous, from Lotor's plan to the fact that Zarkon could take his son fucking a gladiator but not being friends with one.  

Yet it had all gone so wrong.

"He... he was interested.  In me.  By the time we were meeting in storage.  He asked if I wanted that."  Shiro closed his eyes tightly, ducking his head to avoid their eyes.  "I told him yes.  That I wanted... Because it didn't hurt.  Everything else hurt in captivity, but not with Lotor.  I just wanted more of that.  To forget the pain for a little while."

"And if you said no, he might stop meeting you," Matt murmured, so very gently.  "And you wouldn't get fed anymore."

Shiro winced and shrugged one shoulder.

There was a slow sigh.  "I'm not saying this to stop the story early," Matt said.  "But... you know that's not really consensual, right?  Even if he didn't mean it that way."

"I know," Shiro replied.  "I do.  It wasn't... good.  But it wasn't bad, either.  It was the closest thing to good I had.  Then Zarkon found out again.  And he made us fight."

The silence after that was ringing, even despite the sounds of conversation on screen.

Then, Shiro picked up his head.  "He got my arm.  But I won.  So he was taken away - I didn't really hear what happened to him, I was bleeding out.  And then Haggar took me."

"Oh, Shiro," Matt said.  "I'm so sorry."

All Shiro could do was shrug.

He didn't look over at Keith yet, stomach still churning.  Instead he glanced at Matt again "That's what I was talking about the other night.  I had just remembered a night together.  It was the first time I dreamt of our... relationship."

Matt's hand returned to Shiro's shoulder, squeezing. "No wonder you didn't want to be touched.  So, uh, you were definitely off the mark, though.  You don't win the 'dark shit done because the universe is awful' thing.  For the record.  Sleeping with some guy to not feel shitty does not win."

The absurdity of the comment drew a bark of laughter out of Shiro.  "Of course you have to win, Holt."

"Don't act like you're not just as competitive."  Matt gave him a thin half-smile and squeezed again.  "You're good.  I promise, you're okay.  And you're safe now."

Shiro smiled back, small but not so sharp.  "Maybe."

"How long have you known this?"

Shiro finally turned to look at Keith, his shoulders tensing back up.  "Um... it's come in little pieces.  Not long.  Since Lotor came on the ship, for the renting.  Maybe a few days for the rest of it."

That didn't seem to help.  Keith continued to stare, eyes bright and painful.  "Weeks.  Why- why didn't you say?"

Flinching, Shiro curled in on himself again.  "I know I should have.  But at first- I have dreams that aren't real memories.  Just fears.  Normal nightmares.  So I wasn't sure, so I waited to see if I could figure it out one way or another.  It would have been awful, to rile everyone up and find out it was just a random nightmare.”

“We wouldn’t have minded,” Keith said.  “Or you could have just spoken to someone and said you weren’t sure.”

Shiro shrugged, because Keith was right.  But he hadn’t, so here they were.  “By the time I knew for sure, I had remembered.  Us.  What I agreed to.  And I didn't..."  His eyes slammed shut as heat built behind them again.  "I didn't want you guys to see me like that.  Bad enough I remember it, now.  It's pathetic.  I know it is.  I was basically his dog, begging for scraps of food and attention.  Even before the sex, I was so  _ stupidly _ grateful for any touch that didn't hurt.  I'm supposed to be the Black Paladin.  You're supposed to  _ trust me! _  But I feel apart from the simplest things, basically within minutes.  How were you ever supposed to believe in me again when you knew that?  I know I shouldn't have hidden it, not when I was making so many decisions about him, but I just.... I couldn't."

One of those deep trembles rang through Shiro, hard enough that he started to shiver.

There hadn't been a long term plan, just panic.  Just hope that no one would ever have to see him that way.  But Keith knew, now, and Shiro should accept what he'd see.  Should accept the consequences of his actions, when-

Something slammed into his side.

Shiro jolted, nearly shoving off the couch.  But Keith held on, dragging him closer into a tight hug.

"I should have saw," Keith said, speaking into Shiro's shoulder.  "I knew something was bothering you.  You've been so quiet.  We were worried, but there was nothing concrete, so we let it go.  I'm sorry.  We weren't there for you."

Shiro shook his head, eyes wide.  "You couldn't have known.  I didn't know until I started dreaming."

"You know when things are bothering me," Keith pointed out.  "You knew when I was figuring out about the Galra and having nightmares.  You tried to get me to talk, even if I wouldn't.  So I'm sorry.  I should have done the same for you."

Heart aching, Shiro finally returned the hug.  "I hid it from you.  I'm sorry I let you down.  I should have been stronger."

Keith pulled away, meeting his eyes seriously.  "You didn't!" He hissed, gaze direct and intense.  "You came home.  You came  _ back. _  That's all I wanted you to do.  Nothing else matters.  I don't care who you had to hurt, who you fought, who you slept with.  So long as you can live with it and come home,  _  I don't care." _

The cracks in Shiro's chest widened, into aching, jagged wounds.

Another tremble started, this one more powerful than the rest.  His face crumpled under the force of it as his eyes began to burn.  "I thought of you," he admitted, voice barely more than a whisper.  The knot in his throat was too big for more.  "During that fight.  I didn't want to hurt Lotor.  But I had to go back to Earth.  I promised you I'd come home."

This time, Keith's face crumpled.  He dove forward, slamming his face into Shiro's chest and wrapping his arms around him.

Shiro held on just as desperately.  The tears never quite spilled, not fully, but he could feel himself shaking and the painful pressure behind his eyes.  

It took a long time for either of them to let go.  When he pulled back, Keith's eyes were red and there was a suspicious wetness to each breath.  "Am I allowed to kill Lotor now?" He asked, half-joking.

"We still need him for the rift," Shiro pointed out.

Matt cleared his throat.  "Eh," he said.  "I mean, he knows what he's doing.  But we've got data too.  Historical context.  We can figure it out.  It'd be faster with him, though, and I don't think supercharging everyone's weapons is a bad idea."

The reminder of what had just happened sobered Keith immediately.  He sighed and nodded.  "Alright, fine.  Can I break his nose?"

"How about I talk to him?" Shiro said, sighing.  "He hinted at it, and I told him I don't remember anything.  It might be time to come clean."

"Why?" Matt asked.  "You don't owe him anything, you know.  From the sound of it, he gave you the bare minimum of decency for his own reasons."

Shiro sighed, then straightened.  "Because I want answers.  And because I want... if I'm opening this, I'm doing it all the way.  I should have been honest with at least Allura from the start.  I need to recuse myself of being in charge of him and decisions about him.  I can't trust my judgement."

"You've done better than anyone could have asked you," Keith shot back.  He crossed his arms, as if daring Shiro to argue.

But Matt sighed. "Yeah, but he doesn't need to be in that position.  I think it's wise."

Shiro nodded.  "It's the only right thing to do.  And, honestly, it'll be a relief.  I don't want to be in this position anymore."

Finally, Keith relaxed.  "Okay.  Whatever you want."  He leaned back against the arm of the couch, watching Shiro carefully.  "You'll have us there, right?  At least one of us?"

"I'd like that."

Matt thumped him fondly on the back.  "You got it.  I've got a question for him too."  When Shiro arched a brow, Matt bared his teeth.  "If he was so fond of you, why leave you there?"

Familiar ice formed in Shiro's stomach.  "I asked after we were found the first time.  He'd be pinned for it, and all his plans would be ruined.  He was honestly apologetic."  

There was a pause.  

Matt tilted his head, a thin, dangerous smile forming.  "Apologetic.  Huh.  Alright."

Shiro glared right back.  "You're not allowed to break his nose either."

"Leave the face alone.  Got it."

"Matt!"

It was Keith who narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.   "That rift research is years old."

Shiro sighed in relief and nodded.  "Yes.  And, honestly?  If I was going to be left in captivity for anything, I'm glad it was a plot to overthrow Zarkon.  One that I get to be part of enacting." 

He hadn't planned to say the words still they came out.  But they resonated like a bell.

If Shiro had to survive that hell, if he had to lose his arm and spend hellish months with Haggar, then he wanted it to be  _ worth _ something.  He wanted it to mean something in the grand scheme of his life.

Lotor was just the opportunity.

Lips pressed thin, Matt sighed.  "Fine, fine.  I'll leave him be.  Whatever you want, we'll follow your lead.  You've got a pretty good track record with leadership, Sir."

"Oh, enough."  Shiro slumped back on the couch, rolling his eyes.

But he'd just told two people everything.  Two members of his team knew the whole story, minutes the personal details.  Yet they were still here.  They supported him, and still saw him as a leader.  As admirable.

It meant more than Shiro could ever say. 

Glancing at the screen, Keith suddenly frowned.  "Uh, okay, I think I missed something.  Why is that harpoon gun glowing like that?"

Matt let out a bark of laughter.  "Oh, man.  Yeah, let's start over from the beginning."

As the opening shots began to play again, Shiro let his head relax back, and his eyes fall shut.  There was still a phantom ache in his arm, and tomorrow was going to involve telling even more people.

But for now, Shiro was okay.  Even with the violence he'd just remembered, he felt safer than he had in a long time.

No matter what, his team was there for him.

With that thought in mind, his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep to the sounds of Keith and Matt arguing over a goofy shark movie.

For the first time in weeks, Shiro's sleep was peaceful and dreamless.

***

Lotor walked into the meeting room, flanked on both sides by Keith and Matt, his head held high and hands cuffed in front of him.  From the way he was glancing around, he’d noticed the route was different, and was curious what they were up to.

When he saw Shiro sitting at the other end of the table, he frowned.  “Has something happened?”

“Not recently,” Shiro replied.  He folded his hands on the table, for lack of anything else to do with them.  Only long practice kept his face neutral.  Inside, there was a vibration humming through him, nervous energy and something like a thrill.

They were doing this.  Cards on the table, honesty doing this.

Allura had been given the very bare bones version of the events.  For the moment, the elevator pitch was enough for her to give them half an hour to talk.  He’d have to give more detail later, but he would have Keith and Matt there for that too.  From her face, she already understood it was a sensitive topic.  Shiro just hoped her sympathy would stay on his side.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Shiro continued, nodding to other side of the table.

Lotor’s eyes darted between all three of them, then he clearly decided he didn’t have much of a choice.  He sat down slowly, shifting his cuffs so they settled comfortably in his lap.  “May I ask what this is about?”

There should have been words for what Shiro wanted to say.  Something professional and clean, that hid the fear and confusion behind a layer of polish.

Instead, his fingers curled around the top of his right arm.

Lotor stilled, and his face fell.  “Ah. I see.”  His shoulders slumped, and there was a slight curl to his lips.  “You do remember, after all?”

Shiro’s hand froze, then dropped into his lap.  There was a moment where habit took over, and a set of lies rested on the tip of his tongue.  ‘Remembered what?  No, this is about the rift.’

But Shiro was done with fearing honesty.  It wasn’t his natural state, and the truth was out, now.  He’d rather control how it came out.

“I remembered last night,” Shiro told him.  “In a dream.”

Lotor’s eyes flickered up to him, the blue irises sharp.  “Just that specific fight?”

Stomach twisting, Shiro lifted his jaw.  His eyes flickered to Keith, who held his Marmora blade firmly in hand, and to Matt, who watched Lotor with cold eyes.

In nearly all of Shiro’s interactions with Lotor, both before and after Voltron, he’d been alone.  If not in physicality, in spirit.  He’d isolated himself away.

But this time, he had allies.  People who loved him, and who had his back.

That gave Shiro the courage to speak.

“No.  I’ve remembered all of it, over the past several weeks.”  Shiro pushed himself up so he was standing.  With his hands braced on the table, he could hide the shiver running through him.  “I remembered us.”

Lotor took in a deep, slow breath.  His face was neutral as well, but Shiro could see the way his nails had elongated, extended like a cat.  “I-”  He paused, leaning back further in his chair.  His eyes stayed completely fixed on Shiro, not flickering away for an instant, despite threatening presences behind him.  “Is there something you need clarified, then?”

“You tried to remind me,” Shiro said.  “Just a few days ago.  You wanted me to remember.  Including this?”  He gestured to his arm.  “Why?”

Eyes wide, Lotor swallowed rapidly.  Then he took a deep breath.  “I was not trying to remind you of the arm.  Perhaps it’s better that way, for you to have good context.  But instead I wished for you to remember the times shortly before that fight.”

Matt cleared his throat.  “He asked why.”

For the first time, Lotor looked away from Shiro, glancing back over his shoulder.  “The answer you expect is for your favor, correct?  That’s not why.”  He looked back at Shiro, his eyes steady.  “I wanted you to remember because I do.  Because I wanted to gauge how you would feel about me, now that you are no longer a prisoner of my Father.  Because I cannot forget, and it is  _ frustrating, _ to have someone completely forget a connection.”

Keith took a step closer, pointedly shifting the grip on his blade.  “Is that the complete answer?”

“Yes!”  Lotor’s eyes flashed.  “I had thought- I told you before that I understand the position you were in.  Not completely, but enough.  So I know that the situation was more complicated than it could have been.  But even so, I found you-”  He paused, eyes flickering up to Keith.  Then he groaned and continued.  “I found you engaging.  Friendly.  You did not come from an advanced planet, but you had wit and interesting insights.  Despite your situation, you had so much  _ spirit, _ and you refused to fully bow your head, even in the worst situation.  There was so much to admire about you, Black Paladin.  Which was why I continued to risk everything to meet with you, and to offer the small aid I could.  I wished for you to remember because I cannot forget.”

Shiro stepped closer, slowly forgetting his nerves in the face of answers.  His stomach still churned, but Lotor seemed honest.  Believable.  

“What were you risking?” Shiro asked.  “What was worth sneaking out to me and everything that happened, but not worthy saving me?  And how did Zarkon even find out?”

Letting out his breath through his nose, Lotor ducked his head.  “You already know what.  At the time I was deepening my understanding of the rift and of my home planet.  It was the first time there seemed to be a way to overthrow my father.  If my research was discovered, I would be found a traitor and killed, as would my generals.  I wished to protect them, and the one chance I had at taking the throne away from Zarkon.  As for how, the Witch is paranoid, with good reason.  She had me followed, not for the last time, either.  Another guard blended in too well, and I was discovered with you.”

So it really had been for the rift.

Good.  That year had been hell, but at least now it mattered.  It had lead up to something worth suffering for.  It hadn’t been just senseless pain.

Or, it had, but Shiro could at least justify it to himself.

Despite himself, relief flooded Shiro, making his shoulders relax.

Which made Matt’s eyes narrow.  “Why overthrow Zarkon?”  He demanded, tapping his staff on the floor.  “You lived in the lap of luxury, and you had so much to lose.  Unless what you really want is the crown.”

Lotor let out a loud snort.  Then he sighed and turned his gaze back on to Matt again.  “Luxury, maybe.  But safety, no.  My existence was a formality, a pretend line of succession for an important emperor.  

“Besides which, I have eyes.  I grew up watching my father run the Galra the same way he does now.  Rather than ask our people to survive, they are put to death for the crime of losing.”  Lotor shook his head, eyes screwed shut with frustration.  “Every single fight in the past ten thousand years has been won not through cunning and management, but because we have thrown enough people on it that eventually the enemy stopped moving.  It’s wasteful.   _ Stupid. _  Then I began to wonder why we did not use other resources better.  Would it not be wider to enfold those we conquer into our armies?  Give them chances for resources and mobility in exchange for talent and strength.”

He wasn’t wrong.  And it matched with Lotor’s actions and style of fighting.

There was every reason not to trust Lotor.  But Shiro found himself believing him.  It was so very  _ Lotor. _

Looking back at Shiro again, Lotor’s shoulders slumped.  “I do understand, now.  More than I did then.  Why not to bring others into the fold.”

Shiro met his direct gaze, pinned by the intensity of it.  He swallowed hard.

After a few seconds of silence, Keith glanced at Matt, then down at Lotor.  “Why?”

“Because it is vulnerable,” Lotor said, eyes burning into Shiro’s.  “To take someone in is to give them a chance to become entrenched.  Necessary.  Valued.  And there is always the possibility that they will become more important to you than you are to them.”

Shiro’s stomach clenched tightly, and his heart picked up again.  

That message couldn’t be any less subtle.

“Maybe it’s because you treated them badly in the first place,” Keith shot back, arms crossed tightly over his chest.  “Maybe you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Usually,” Lotor agreed.  He still didn’t look away.

Shiro tore his gaze away first, wincing.  He held all the cards here.  Lotor was giving answers.  Shiro was the hurt party, the one justified in striking back.  Lotor’s interest in him had forced him into the worst possible arena fight.

But Shiro had said yes.  Even if the situation was bad, even if he’d been using Lotor’s affections for food and comfort, he’d said yes and meant it.

“What do you want, Prince?” Shiro asked, voice softening around the address, just to see the reaction.

This time, it was Lotor who closed his eyes.  “I want my father defeated, and the witch dead.”

“No, beyond that.  How do you want this to end?”

Lotor swallowed again.  “I want Zarkon off the throne, and his mad commanders and generals killed or imprisoned.  I want to dissolve the empire, the entire, sick machine of it.  I wish to create a new nation of Galra, one where we can thrive as a culture, not just as foot soldiers.  Then I want- then I want to be free of it all.”  He shook his head slowly.  “I thought for many years that I wanted to be Emperor.  But the time I spent in those ships were so much more miserable than the ones in exile.  I don’t want to be trapped in it.  I’d like to do anything else.  Maybe continue with Voltron, if I am ever allowed to be more than a prisoner.”  He looked at Shiro through his lashes.  “I wish to be your teammate and your ally.  Anything else can come later.”

Watching him, Shiro’s stomach went cold.

This, he didn’t believe.  The first part was probably true.  Lotor definitely wanted his enemies gone, and Shiro had no problem with that.  Their enemies were mutual.  But the rest of it was too tailor made, to clever by half.

Shiro’s eyes glanced up, meeting Matt and Keith again.  Matt inclined his head, leaving the call up to Shiro.  Keith crossed his arms and radiated distrust, but didn’t speak up.

There was one final question, and this one Shiro had to answer.

Did Shiro trust Lotor?  Could the team trust Lotor?

The answer was more complicated than yes or no.  Everything that had been true yesterday was still true today.  The only difference was that Lotor looked at him differently.  More openly.

All this time, Shiro had been afraid of what his own heart would say, when he let it speak.  He’d been terrified this whole time that he was leading blindly.

This time, Shiro listened.  And he smiled at Lotor.  “I can’t promise you most of that, but I can say we’re on the same side for now.”

Lotor’s eyes lit up, eager and relieved.  His lips pulled back into a warm smile, filled with honest affection.

It didn’t erase the memory of the blade sliding through his arm.  But it wasn’t overwhelmed in turn.

“Our basic goals are the same,” Lotor agreed.  “Thank you.  For listening to me.  The situation is not ideal  I would give anything to have met you under different circumstances.  But I do not regret the meeting, despite everything.”

A smile pulled over Shiro’s lips, soft but real.  “I don’t either.”

For at least that moment, he really didn’t.  That year had been awful, the suffering cruel, Lotor’s game’s unkowable.  But like he’d told the others, that didn’t mean it was all bad. It had been the greatest good possible.  That didn’t make Lotor a good person, didn’t make his actions right.

But they weren’t bad.  And if Shiro believed anything from this little interrogation, it was the light in Lotor’s eyes when he looked at Shiro.

Even all that aside, finding out about Shiro and Lotor had been been a smokescreen that distracted Haggar from finding out Lotor’s other goals.  If it was all in service of the research that would defeat Zarkon, Shiro could never regret it.

There was still so much to discuss.

But that was enough for today.

Taking the last few steps forward, Shiro unlocked Lotor’s cuffs.

Immediately, Keith and Matt both tensed.  But Shiro held up a hand, stalling them.  “I trust you can make it back to your room?”

“I can,” Lotor confirmed, sounding breathless.  His eyes were wide, almost awed.

“You’re free to go, then.”

For a moment, Lotor hesitated.  His hand held out like he’d reach out and touch Shiro.  But even the thought made Shiro tense, and instead Lotor drew back.  “Understood.  Thank you.”  The words were loaded, filed with meaning.  But above all, it was ‘thank you for trusting me.’

Shiro just smiled back thinly.  “For now, stay in your room unless you’re called for.  We’ll talk more about letting you out soon.”

Lotor stood and bowed to Shiro, then again to Matt and Keith, shallower.  “I will.  Have a good afternoon.”

With that, he slipped out.

“That a good idea?” Matt asked.  “Specifically letting him walk back alone, but all of this.”

“He won’t get up to trouble immediately,” Shiro said.  “He knows we’re watching.  Besides, we’re the only shot he’s got at this.  He won’t jeopardize that until later.”

“You sound awfully confident about that.”

Shiro smiled, shaky and wild.  “I am, actually.  I don’t believe a lot of things he said.  But that we know for sure.”

Leaning against the table, Keith snorted.  “He’s a rat.  But he’s in love with Shiro.”

Starting, Shiro whirled to look at him.  “What?  C’mon.”

Matt’s brows rose.  “Into him, yeah.  But he didn’t say love.”

“No, he’s in love.”  Keith looked them bother over, then shrugged. He spun the Marmora blade in his hand, an idle gesture.  “Or, at least, as close as someone like him gets to it.  I get what it’s like to be won over by Shiro talking you down from the other side of a table.  At some point, you just get sucked in.”

“Oh, please-”

Matt nodded at Keith. “That’s true.  I can believe that.”  He shot Shiro a flash of a smile.  “You’re really too charming for your own good.  One more alien heart you’ve broken, Mr. Shiro the Hero.”

Now they were definitely just teasing.  Shiro rolled his eyes.  “Enough, both of you.”

Keith flashed him a smirk, then sobered.  “So what are you going to do about him?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro replied honestly.  “Keep an eye on him, I guess.  The relationship we had, even the early parts, is over.  It can’t live in this environment.  But that doesn’t mean he can’t be useful to us.”

Tilting his head, Matt considered him.  “You really want him as an ally?  Is that a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro repeated.  “But I think it’s worth figuring out.”

There were so many questions, so many problems, so many possibilities.

Things would change.  They had to, because they couldn’t continue this war without adapting.

But no matter what, Shiro wasn’t alone anymore.  He had people he trusted, people he could rely on, people who had his back.

Maybe someday Lotor could become one of those people.  If he could prove that the worst parts of their relationship had been from the environment and not from Lotor himself, he could be an ally.

The universe was at stake, but they couldn’t turn back.  They couldn’t erase what had happened.

They could only move forward.

That started with trust.  Trust in Shiro’s friends and team, that they would support him.  Trust that they could handle what went wrong.  Trust that Lotor was on their side, at least for now.

The rest would come.


End file.
